


Reach for the Soldier on the Faraway Border

by Blacklace



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Bucky has his metal arm, Childhood Trauma, Dorks, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mentions of past, Muteness, also Bucky might not be actually mute, includes martial arts, marked Explicit for later chapters, or sort of you know, they are both post-serum
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-08-17
Updated: 2015-02-28
Packaged: 2018-02-13 13:11:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 30,438
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2151942
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Blacklace/pseuds/Blacklace
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The man slid a note across the reception desk and for a brief moment Steve wondered whether it was some sick robbery attempt.<br/>It was a list of books, though, followed by 'Thank you' at the end.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> The title was inspired by a Russian war time song Katyusha. It might not seem that way yet, but it has a significat meaning for the story.  
> And since I've been studying Russian language at school for 4 (long and boring) years I've gathered plenty of inspiration and knowledge for a fic that could contain phrases/words written in Cyrillic and accurate references to Russian culture/life.
> 
> I'm still improving my writing style and grammar, though, so be patient with me :) 
> 
> All mistakes are mine.

"Is there anything I can help you with?" Steve asked with a polite smile on his lips like his supervisor told him to. A dark, handsome stranger stood in front of him. Brown hair were falling to his eyes, shielding them from Steve's sight.

The man slid a note across the reception desk and for a brief moment Steve wondered whether it was some sick robbery attempt.

It was a list of books, though, followed by _**'Thank you'** _ at the end. Steve looked at the weird request in confusion, but shrugged it off. He'd seen much weirder requests, besides this one was actually pretty normal, considering he was working in a library as a receptionist.

"Give me a minute, I'll run the books through the system," Steve said simply, turning to the computer screen where the library program was running. It was an easy task. Something Steve's done a million times before, just typing in the titles, checking whether the books were available, borrowed or in deposit. It went good except for one book.

_Михаил Юрьевич Лермонтов - Герой нашего времени_

"Do you think you could perhaps re-write this book title? I can't read it," Steve pointed at the one title he didn't know what to do with. The guy frowned a little, already taking a pen out of his leather jacket to scratch the previous writing. He flipped the paper over and started writing on the blank side.

 ****_**'Sorry for that, didn't realize I wrote it in Russian**_  
 _ **Mikhail Yuryevich Lermontov - A Hero of Our Time**_  
 _ **In original, please'**_

Steve quirked an eyebrow at the note. He looked up at the guy who was smiling faintly now. His smile was enough of an excuse for Steve.

"It's okay, I'll look it up now," he waved the paper in the air for emphasis and then turned back to his computer. They indeed had a copy of that book in original.

Steve wondered whether the guy was mute or just couldn't speak for some other reason. Maybe he shouted himself hoarse at some rock concert. He looked the type. The bad boy-ish type Steve had a weakness for. Well-worn leather jacket, black jeans, red t-shirt and biker boots. He even had some ear piercings, but they were mostly hidden under the brown locks of his hair. Steve bit his lip, hard, to muffle the giggles that were threatening to escape his mouth when he mentally compared the guy to John Bender from The Breakfast Club. Yeah, he would be that kind of guy, Steve thought. Sitting on a desk, tearing apart Moliér's books and laughing at it. Except maybe not. This guy seemed rather interested in literature despite his looks.

"I wrote down where the books are, you should have no trouble finding them. But if you do, just come here and I'll find them for you," Steve smiled widely, handing the list of books, now with his own notes, back to the guy. The guy nodded in acknowledgement and took the paper back from Steve so their fingers didn't brush. He mouthed 'Thank you' before disappearing among the many tall book shelves the library had.

Steve stood there, baffled by the stranger, for couple of minutes. He was re-playing the short interaction in his head over and over. There was something about this guy that made Steve's skin pleasantly tingle all over. He chalked it up to the spicy perfume he wore and that irresistible rocker look.

The reason why Steve had it bad for bad boys was simple, for he's been the good guy all his life, never starting fights or smoking weed behind school bleachers. He felt drawn to danger and fights like a moth to flame. Getting his knuckles bloody and face beaten was something he'd considered normal, natural even. And as he grew up, he was still considered the good guy that the others liked to step on.

Only Steve grew bigger and smarter with time. He could fend for himself with ease and he wasn't picked on anymore. He got muscles that filled his wide frame nicely, he got basic martial arts training and still managed to be a damn angel about it. So it only came naturally to him that he felt attracted to danger and thrill. Sometimes he thought he liked being beaten up and that it gave him a twisted sense of satisfaction.

The only thing about this whole ordeal that really bothered Steve was the threat of ending up in an abusive relationship. Because while he could fall for a stranger in biker boots within minutes, he wasn't so sure whether he could stand being beaten by him. Because even Steve with his pseudo-masochistic inclinations knew where to draw the line.

It was the looks, however, that drew him to boys like the one he met earlier that day. Not the idea of being in an abusive relationship.

The leather jacket and biker boots that felt buttery smooth under fingertips but were rough on the edges. The spicy perfume that spiked the air around the stranger and only provoked Steve's senses, wrapped its ropes around him, dragged him close and tight and drugged him with its luring tones. Steve loved the smell of false danger. The threat of bruising kisses and bite marks that would last for days. The painful scratches on his back that would sting deliciously under the hot water, that would remind Steve of the one who made them...

„Excuse me?“ a sharp voice brought Steve back to reality. He shook his head quickly and run his hand through his blond hair in a failed attemt at willing the blush away from his cheeks. A small lady stood at the other side of the desk, looking amused.

„I'm sorry, uh, how can I help you?“ Steve plastered a wide smile on his lips, hoping she wasn't standing there for too long.

**o_O_o_O_o_O_o**

"I see you're somewhere far, far away," Natasha mocked as she sat down across from Steve in their favorite coffee shop.

"What?" Steve's head snapped up with a surprised look in his wide eyes.

"Nothing," she laughed and nudged his hand. "So what bothers you today?" she tilted her head to the side and waited patiently for Steve to crack up. It never took long.

"Do you know any other Russian students on the campus?" he looked at her shyly, as if he'd done something bad.

"Sure, why?" she paused and then narrowed her eyes. "You don't want to impress some poor foreing student with your language skills, do you?" she almost laughed at her own joke, corners of her mouth twitching up slightly. Steve was terrible in Russian language.

"Come on, we both know I'm a lost case," Steve snorted and finally looked her straight in the eye. "Today at the library this guy came in and wanted a book from a russian author. He wrote the name of the book in Cyrillic and didn't speak a word to me," Steve said, frustrated.

"So what are you trying to tell me here, exactly?" she looked amused at Steve's helplessness.

He took a deep breath before speaking again.

"Do you know, by any chance, any student who might be mute and from Russia? Or at least studying Russian?" Steve hopefully looked at her as she scrunched her nose and went silent for a minute.

"I don't think so. What did he look like?" she asked.

"He was kinda tall, chin long brown hair. Uh, he wore a killer leather jacket, had a glove on one of his hands and uh, biker boots," Steve stopped and looked outside the window, the mental description running over and over in his head as he tried to remember more of the stranger. "He had that bad boy thing going on pretty bad," he shrugged.

„Couldn't he be deaf, instead of mute?“ she asked with interest. Steve could see the wheels working in her head furiously.

„I don't think so. I was looking at him most of the time and he hadn't looked down to read my lips once. I'd notice it, trust me,“ he assured her.

"So let's recapitulate," she leaned over the table to rest her elbows on the hard wood and started counting on her fingers. "You met this guy, who has to be pretty hot, judging by your dreamy expression," she counted and Steve tried to protest.

"But-"

"No buts, honey, we're laying the facts here," she silenced him with a gesture and carried on. "You dont know his name or whether he's from Russia, but you know he's mute. And you haven't seen him before. Am I right?" she raised her eyebrow in a question.

"Pretty much, yeah. Except maybe he's not mute, you know. He gave me a piece of paper with no explanation. Maybe he couldn't speak for some other reason," Steve replied. _Yeah, like having a sore throat from screaming someone's name over and over all night long._ Steve quickly pushed the thought to the darkest corner of his mind. He didn't need to pop a boner in public.

"Okay, whatever, I'll try to ask my friends if they know anyone fitting your description," she winked at him. "But promise me you won't be moping if you find out he's taken or something," she pointed her slender finger at him.

"Promise," he beamed at her.

"You're radiating, Rogers, tune it down," she hid her smirk behind the porcelain coffee cup and sipped on the delicious drink. "Can I count on you in the gym today?" she asked after a while when it was safe to change the topic.

"Couldn't let you down. Besides, I feel hyperactive with all the pent up energy. I'm counting on you to wear me down today," he said with a smirk.

"Oh, don't worry. You'll be sore for a week after I'm done with you," she cackled evily.

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And for the record, Steve was glad that the college versions of jocks and cheerleaders left him alone for the night. He still hadn't figure out how to politely kick them out of the Paleontology section when they were too loud and made embarassing noises that could be heard everywhere in the library.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for all the mistakes, I have bitch of a headache and it's impossible to do anything productive with it.  
> I'd like to thank AtemusLotus and debwalsh for commenting on the first chapter and motivating me to write - thank you guys :3

 

„Are you going to the party tonight?" Natasha asked in her usual steady voice. She was sitting on their small couch, filing her nails and working them to perfection, even though they were already perfect in Steve's opinion.

„What party?" he asked, looking up from his textbook. He was staring at it dumbly for the past twenty minutes, simply incapable of getting his head around the nonsense it said.

„The Stark party," she rolled her eyes. "Are you living under a rock, Rogers? This is college. Fun, drinking games, irresponsible behaviour!" she smirked at him, waiting for an answer Steve was sure she already knew.

„Last time you convinced me to do vodka shots I ended up with a serious memory loss and bitch of a headache,“ Steve said in a flat voice. „And I already took the night shift at the library," he shrugged apologetically, but wasn't sorry at all.

Nat could be pretty wild at parties and as most Russians, she was good at drinking, too. Which Steve never was, mostly because he was lacking the recquired training. It usually took him about 3 drinks to get tipsy. The last thing he needed was Tony Stark drunkenly hitting on him, even though the two of them developed sort of a habit on their own since Steve started college and went to one of Stark's famous parties. They would bump into each other, have a little chit-chat and drink. And when Tony would be wasted enough, he'd muster the courage to hit on Steve.

Steve, of course, ever being the gentlemen, would laugh it off and leave Tony alone.

It became so natural for these two, to dance around each other, to the point where no one took it seriously anymore. Not even them.

"You know, maybe if you'd go to an actual party once in a time, you might find your mysterious pretty boy," she tilted her head to the side.

"I doubt that," he flashed her one of his big smiles before shutting his textbook close and standing up to get ready for his night shift.

Natasha sighed from where she was now laying on the couch and rested her feet on the soft cushions. "I'll keep you updated, though, if your pretty boy shows up," she looked smug, knowing fully well that was the only argument that could change Steve's mind.

„You're sweet," he laughed and kissed her on the cheek. „Think you could keep Stark's dirty hands away from him for me?“ Steve made doey eyes at her and she smacked his shoulder.

„Not again with those eyes, Rogers,“ she grinned and batted him away when he got closer to her.

„What? Are you intimadated?“ he mocked her and straddled her hips.

„Don't-“ she squeaked just as Steve went full-on attack mode on her and started tickling her mercilessly.

Natasha was squeeling and yelling like a kid, trying to shove at Steve who was laughing with glee like the little shit he was. He was pinning her down with his weight, childish satisfaction was shining in his eyes as she gasped for breath through fits of giggles. Steve was certain of his victory until she managed to manhandle him on the floor and locked him in a death grip. Her chest was heaving, pressed against his back as she struggled to get her breathing under control. Steve could hear the little wheezing sounds in her lungs and he felt a bit sorry for making it so hard on her.

„Fuck you, Rogers,“ she barked and it elicited a chuckle from Steve when he heard the smile in her voice.

„Okay, you won,“ he laughed and she let go easily when he started wriggling in her amrs.

„Just so you know,“ she lifted herself up with a grace and placed both her hands on her hips. „'m not watching your boy toy tonight. But if Stark gropes him, I sure as hell will snap some pics for you,“ she smirked and held one of her hands out for Steve. He took it and she picked him up with no effort.

„Thanks, Nat,“ he said and rolled his eyes so hard it stung.

„Love you too,“ she smiled sweetly and embraced him in a tight hug.

Steve reciprocated her bear hug, tugging her close, so he could rest his chin on top of her head. She smelled like cinnamon and vanilla and Steve could never get enough of that smell. He kissed the top of her head, still smiling. He had endless respect for his best friend. Endless love, too, for she's been his only friend for as long as he could remember.

„I'll see you later?“ Steve mumbled and slowly let go of her. She returned his smile and nodded.

„See you, Steve,“ she kissed his cheek and grabbed the buffer that ended up on the floor during their childish fight and returned to the original task.

**o_O_o_O_o_O_o**

Steve took his sweet time getting to the library, just because he felt like it. His shift wasn't due to another 15 minutes, so he let himself sink into the false comfort zone of having enough time to tag along meaningless places around the university campus.

The places, however meaningless and ordinary, were hiding something that Steve wished he had the talent to capture. He could draw them, of course, but he wanted to tell the tales the places were hiding and capture their echos in his pictures.

It meant all and it meant nothing to Steve.

He was no Renoir and people would never stop and gasp at his paintings unless he had the ability to speak volumes through his art. _How does one speak loud enough to catch people's attention and leave them deaf?_ Steve often asked himself and even more often chalked it up to a good topic or scenery the artist would find for their masterpiece. Or the historical period they had lived in.

It was eating Steve away.

He kicked a single grey pebble on the ground, frustrated, and accidentally hit some kid who was passing by. He apologized, ashamed of his own foolishness, and hurried to the library with his gaze firmly glued on the ground. He ended up arriving late, but the girl who worked her shift before him didn't seem to mind, judging from the way she was talking to some other girl at the reception. He walked closer to the girls and greeted them with a smile.

"Hi Steve!" the smaller of the two girls greeted him with a smile. A greater purpose was glinting in her unnaturaly dark eyes and it never ceased to make Steve feel uneasy. He shuffled his feet and looked at her, trying his best not to squirm.

“Lin,” he gave her a weak smile.

Steve felt the thick ropes of her sickly sweet perfume wrapping tight around his neck like a snake, making it harder to breathe with every passing second. He hoped that his doctor was right when he told him he finally got rid of his asthma. He didn't need to cause a drama with an asthma attack right now.

„So I guess this is my cue,“ Lin grinned and reached under the desk to retrieve her purse. „Bye bye Steve,“ she batted her perfectly curled eyelashes at him, hoping she'd impress him. Little did she know that Steve had already someone else in mind.

„Bye, Lin,“ he croaked and as soon as she was out of the building in safe distance, Steve threw his bag on the desk and walked swiftly over to the back of the study room the reception was overlooking. He thought that the library was in awful need of fresh air and so were his lungs. He fumbled with the ancient window handles, their rust was making it hard to open and Steve wondered when was the last time someone bothered to oil the hinges.

He leaned against the windowsill and looked outside the window. The park and the benches in front of it were empty except two squirrels chasing each other around a tree trunk. Steve found it amusing, but it was corny nevertheless. It was getting late, he realized, as the last sun rays bled into the room, covering everything in various shades of gold.

The tiny grains of dust that were dancing in the sunlight wore a beautiful diamond disguise and mingled together in the air. Steve would try to catch them as a kid, when he used to watch them whirl peacefully in an old attic. He wouldn't do that anymore, aware of how silly and pointless it was.

Steve walked back to the reception desk and sat behind the counter. He signed up to the library system and then checked if everything was working right. It was and Steve hummed in relief, leaning over the desk to savour the quietness the library served. He lost himself in the purple and orange clouds on the horizon.

He wished he could take a break and go out. Rent a car, drive far across the city and watch the sunset in a god forgotten place. Feel the chill of the night, the faint and distant smell of dew and mist rising off of the ground. Watch the tall grass bend under the breeze and then drive again, wherever the roud would take him. Maybe cross roads with Kilgore Trout and then some.

Steve shook his head, cursing himself for his damn romantic tendencies. They were bullshit, he often thought.

But then again, his thoughts were more entertaining than his shift was with the library being practically a ghost town. Most students were out and partying, non of them even remotely interested in visiting the library during the late night hours, not even for a cliché make-out session.

And for the record, Steve was glad that the college versions of jocks and cheerleaders left him alone for the night. He still hadn't figure out how to politely kick them out of the Paleontology section when they were too loud and made embarassing noises that could be heard everywhere in the library. He usually just sat at his desk, face beet red, waiting for the couple to finish so he could pick up the scattered books they left on the floor.

He was _so enjoying_ the silence that evening.

Steve had just been considering closing up an hour earlier when a familiar sound of footsteps caught his attention. He jerked his head up to see the intruder, only to be greeted by the tall, dark figure he'd been dreaming about the past couple of days. He tried not to beam, but it's easier said than done. Steve soon abandoned the stupid idea, he knew he wouldn't stand a chance anyway.

"Good evening, anything I can help you with?" he asked politely. The guy looked Steve right in his eyes and lingered for a second too long. Steve caught the way his pupils expanded with each breath he took, eating away the beautiful silvery grey of his eyes.

Then the man slid a piece of paper across the desk.

 ****_**'Hi, I had trouble finding this book. Help me, please?**_  
 _ **Fjodor Michailyevich Dostoyevsky - Idiot**_  
 _ **In original, if possible, thank you'**_

Steve smiled, he knew that book. Never got around to actually read it, but he was familiar with its content. Natasha once explained him the plot of the book when she tried to make an alegory and Steve didn't understood a word she said.

He found the plot amusing to a certain point, very ironic and maybe a bit cruel, too.

It told a tale of mentally ill Lev Myshkin who tried to make the world a better place, but only got more insane for his foolish trying. As Natasha told him, the name Lev Myshkin itself took an important part in the whole story. _'To make it simple for you,_ _Лев_ _translates as Lion and_ _Мышкин_ _is closest to the word Mouse,'_ Natasha had told him.

The irony in that was bitter.

Steve knew how this kind of irony tasted from first hand experience, when he stood tall and strong for his mother, but was, in fact, scarred little child, unprepared for the world's cruelty. He was a mouse puffing out its pathetic little chest, trying to convince everyone, including himself, he was the lion.

"Let me check out if we have it," Steve turned to the computer screen and typed in the author. "Uh, seems we don't have Idiot in original, but we have The Crime and Punishment in Russian," Steve looked back at the guy and waited for his reply. He seemed to be considering Steve's offer, then fished out another piece of paper and wrote something down.

_**'Afraid I don't have time for C &P.  
But do you have, by any chance, some fairy tales for children? Grimm Brothers and such - in Russian?' ** _

Steve frowned a little, then looked at the guy. He looked different today, Steve noticed. He looked tired, his cheeks weirdlysunken. There were dark circles under his eyes and two-day stubble on his face.

Yet he still had that mischievous lights in his pale, silvery eyes. Like he was almost happy to be exhausted.

"Let's have a look," Steve gave him a hopeful smile and returned back to the screen. Of course they had no fairy tales in Russian. Despite the library's "other languages" section being quite large - mainly because there were a lot of students studying various languages - it was lacking in Russian language horribly. Why, Steve had no idea.

"I'm very sorry, but we don't have anything like it," Steve sighed and glanced at the guy. His shoulders slumped visibly and he started to turn away.

"Wait!" Steve said hurriedly, perhaps too loud for the quiet library. The man turned around and raised his brow expectantly.

"Maybe we could find some other book. Or I could do research and print out some fairytales in Russian, if you'd like?" Steve tried to sound hopefull, knowing fully well it probably came out too eager. He didn't care, though. The guy looked like he hadn't slept properly for days. He could probably use the break and Steve was more than willing to help him.

_**'Fine'** _

"Okay, cool," Steve started filtering books in their database by languages and was rewarded with quite a list of books in Russian.

"Here, have a look and pick some," Steve turned the monitor to the stranger and waited patiently. After couple of minutes of scannig the list with his eyes, the guy seemed to finally find a book that caught his interest.

_**'Aleksandr Solzhenitsyn - One Day in the Life of Ivan Denisovich  
Sorry to cause so much trouble' ** _

"It's okay. I would be bored out of my mind anyway," Steve assured him and got up from the desk. They were the only two people there and it gave Steve chills.

"I honestly wouldn't peg you for the guy who likes such books," he glanced at the stranger who shrugged. "But I guess we all make mistakes," he mumbled under his breath, more for himself than anyone else.

"You can wait here while I fetch the book," Steve said, already walking away.

It took forever for Steve to find the book because someone put it on the wrong spot and since Steve couldn't read Cyrillic for shit, he had to go by the spine labels. Steve wished there was a special place in hell reserved for people who did this on purpose.

"Sorry it took so long, it was somewhere else than it should've been," Steve smiled apologetically, hoping he wasn't blushing.

He handed the guy his book and their fingers brushed briefly. It sent electricity down Steve's spine. He looked at the guy in disbelief. He thought that this shit only happened in books and sappy movies he swore he never watched. Steve wanted to blame it on rubbing accidentally on something plastic, maybe even something that had too much electrons on it, so it would cause the electric knock in the touch. He knew physics, okay? But it felt nothing like it.

Steve needed to know if the guy felt it too, but he gave nothing away. He was looking at the ground and just nodded shortly in a silent _'Thank you'_ before walking away to the study area where he sat down at one of the tables iluminated by a green desk lamp.

Steve stood there like an idiot, fingers still tingling from the brief touch. He shook his head in an attempt to restart his brain and make his legs work again. When he casted a subtle look towards the stranger, he was immediately caught by his icy blue stare. Steve quickly avoided his gaze, feeling the tips of his ears burning already.

Time seemed to be running wild once Steve got himself his sketchbook for company. He finally found the right object to draw. The one that could tell tales millenniums after they were all dead. He needed no words. No more than was already in front of him.

Next time Steve looked at the massive clock on the wall, it was almost 22:00 and he was supposed to be closing up by then.

He didn't want to, thought. He wanted couple more minutes, looking at the beautiful stranger in front of him. He was aware that perhaps he wasn't as subtle as he thought he was with his low-key looks. It's not as if Steve had plenty of experience in that field. He simply couldn't help it. He drank the guy's features in, memorizing every detail and working it into the white paper of his sketchbook. He had charcoal smudges up to his elbows and made a mess of his grey shirt.

He wanted to stay desperately and wanted to go home at the same time. His muscles were sore and his neck stiff from the extra workout he did with Natasha, but also from the pose he was holding while he was drawing. It felt good, though. The pleasant stretch of muscles balancing on the verge of painful, letting him know he did something to strain his body. Steve could easily imagine this soreness comming from a totally different source. With bruises in shape of human teeth and bloody scratches lining his back and sides as a bonus.

Steve sighed and closed his eyes. He knew he wouldn't get fired for staying a bit longer in the library. Nobody would know except for the surveilance cameras. And nobody checks the footage unless something happens.

Steve stood up to stretch his stiff muscles. It made his spine and joints pop deliciously. He sighed happily and scratched the exposed skin of his lower belly. He felt sleepy all of sudden, the weight of the whole week rested heavily on his shoulders with all the other responsibilities he was dodging.

He noticed that the guy was struggling to keep his eyes open, too, but was working hard on the task in hand, taking notes and writing references, never slowing down.

Steve casted one last look towards the stranger before entering the tiny staff kitchen, no bigger than janitor's closet. He grabbed two cups from the shelve -one with Batman, the other with Wonder Woman. Other employees often made fun of Steve for his Wonder Woman mug, but he couldn't care less. Not when she reminded him so much of Natasha.

He filled the kettle with water and in meantime rummaged through the only cupboard there was, to find the chocolate flavored coffee he hid there so Sam wouldn't find it. He stopped mid-move, cursing himself.

 _What the hell, Rogers?_ his internal voice said. _What are you doing, huh? Making coffee for your hopeless crush now?_

Steve wanted to be angry with himself, but then he remembered the tired look on the guy's face and decided what the hell. He might as well carry on with his idiotic plan when the water was already boiling.He poured the hot water over the coffee and grabbed couple of sugar packets and cream containers. He didn't know how the guy liked his coffee, so he took them just in case.

He had to take deep breaths to calm himself down. _It means nothing, Rogers, just bring him the damn coffee and then return back to work,_ he said to himself over and over until he found himself standing right next to the guy's desk.

He was looking at him with amusement, lips curled up in a smirk.

"Uh, you looked like you would use one," Steve tried to be nonchalant about it, but heard the falter in his own voice.

The guy seemed to be taken by surprise when Steve placed the single cup of coffee in front of him along with sugar and cream.

“I didn't know how you like your coffee, so...” he trailed, already feeling stupid.

The guy closed his mouth and gave Steve a small, private smile. There was something warm in his eyes that made Steve's insides melt with affection. The brunette was still smiling when he took a paper that wasn't littered with notes and wrote something on it.

 _**'It's just what I needed, thank you.'** _ he slid the note towards Steve.

"It's nothing," Steve blushed. He wanted to slap himself. Who the hell blushes at thank you like a 20 year old virgin? _Apparently a 20 year old virgin,_ his mind supplied helpfully.

Steve gave the guy one last smile before returning back to his desk to do a little more sketching while he still had the chance. Before he did so, he noted that the guy liked his coffee black and simple – no cream, no sugar. He was glad the guy was engrossed in his book and didn't notice Steve's searching's looks.

He sat behind the reception again and sipped on his own coffee while he tried to catch every perfect line of the man in front of him. Every twich of his lips and the slight upturn curve they had; his slender fingers, one hand covered in a leather glove, his shiny brown locks. Steve found it mesmerizing, the way the guy was brushing his hair behind his ear when it became hard to read. Andthe way his hair slipped right back in an almost mocking manner.

The way he would open his mouth and tap the tip of the pen against his lower lip when he was thinking about something.

Steve was supposed to be gone out of library as of 20 minutes ago, and even though he hardly had the heart to throw the guy out, the fact remained that he should at least go to the upper floor of the library and start turning the lights off.

He walked to the first floor and switched off all the lights there, picked up some scattered books and placed them on the wooden trolley for later re-stacking. When he came down to close the window at the back of the study room, the guy was gone. Steve's heart sank. He shuffled to the abandoned study table to turn of the green lamp and to pick up the book the guy left there.

He was surprised when a pink sticky note was stuck under the book. Steve picked it up with racing heart.

_**'Sorry for holding you up so long, I didn't realize it was so late. You should've said something.  
I'm Bucky, by the way.' ** _

Steve simpered like a middle aged woman reading 50 Shades of Grey. _You're unbelievable, Rogers,_ he heard Nat's voice in his head. And yes, he was.

He put back the book Bucky left there and on his way back picked up its English version. He remembered reading the book in high school, back when he was fascinated by war and its consequences. That was before he came home one warm summer afternoon to a gloomy living room. It stank of mustiness and salt. Two strange men in uniforms had sat on the couch on each side of his crying mother and Steve didn't have to ask. He knew.

He swore to himself he'd never read war books again. He despised war and those craving it. But this book - One Day in the Life of Ivan Denisovich - wasn't exactly a war book, although it was very close to it. It told a story the author himself had to live through. A nightmare called gulag.

Steve remembered the anxiety he felt when he first read that book. It seemed almost unreal that someone could survive the terrors of the camp. He thought that maybe now he'd understand the book better. Now that he's older and he knows more about history than he did in high school.

He put Bucky's pink sticky note inside his copy and packed it into his bag. He then proceeded to turn of the computer and last of the remaining lights.

It was roughly 23:00 when he finally left the building and locked the last door behind him. He could hear the loud music blasting from one of the nearby dorms. He smiled to himself and went on. He wasn't interested in dorm parties anymore. Not since he went to his first Stark party, it ruined him for everything else.

Steve found himself lost in thoughts for the whole way back to his place. So many questions were occupying his mind. He wanted to know more about the guy. Who he is, what is his major. Where is he from and million other irrelevant questions.

Steve sighed.

 _What kind of name is Bucky anyway?_ Steve asked himself. _A name that you'd love to_ _pant_ _and scream into all hours of night_ _,_ whispered a quiet voice within him. Steve blushed but couldn't stop the smile creeping up his lips. So he stood there with his head pressed against the glass of the main door to the apartment complex, eyes screwed shut.

He twisted the key in the lock and quickly walked up to the apartment he shared with Natasha.

Once he was inside their apartment, he remembered the pink note Bucky left him. Steve was smiling stupidly the whole time he was getting ready for bed. Nat would probably put on her sunglasses to stand him, if she was there, claiming he's “Radiating like a fucking Чернобиль.“

She would be right.

That night Steve hadn't slept much. He fell asleep in two in the morning with a book on his chest, crumpling few pages in the process. He drifted off thinking about Bucky.

He dreamt about him, too.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Чернобиль - Chernobyl
> 
> As it turns out, I'm leaving for holiday tomorrow for 9 days, which means no internet connection and no writing. I'll be writing and editing as soon as I get back home, you will have to be patient with me :)
> 
> Kudos and comments are very welcome :3


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Tune it down, Rogers, it's inssuferable," Nat scrunched her pretty nose and sat down at the table.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I'm back from Sweden and it gave me so many ideas for new fics, like you wouldn't believe :D  
> But first things first - another chapter, yay! Please excuse my mistakes and enjoy.

"Tune it down, Rogers, it's inssuferable," Nat scrunched her pretty nose and sat down at the table.

They were both in the kitchen. She was well hungover and just about to open a bottle of pain killers to stuff couple of them in her mouth.

"What?" Steve smiled innocently and handed her the much needed morning coffee, then returned back to the stove to finnish their breakfast. He had no idea when she got home, but he was sure that Clint was involved at some point because Nat had one of his jackets in her room. He had seen that much when he passed her room that morning. He didn't care much, though, knowing Nat was more than capable of taking care of herself.

"You know what," she growled, but it lacked the heat. "You're vomiting rainbows and puppies all over the place," she paused only to take a bite of her breakfast. Scrambled eggs with a side of bacon. Steve knew she'd appreciate that since she'd never been fun when hungover. Steve knew he'd won when he heard Natasha moan around a mouthfull of bacon.

"On the other hand, I might as well marry you because you're a miracle in the kitchen," she complimented him. "Now sit, eat and spill," she nodded towards the other chair in front of her.

"Oh, you might not live this down," he smirked smugly.

"Really?" she quirked her eyebrow.

"I met the guy I told you about the other night," he beamed. "Seems like he wasn't at Stark's party at all."

"Is that so?" she smirked knowingly. "Did you hit on him then?"

"What? No!" he looked alarmed. "He wanted books in Russian, but we didn't have what he wanted. Then he settled for Solzhenitsyn and stayed for hours."

"That's it? You just stared at him from distance for hours like an old creep?" she looked shocked.

"Not really, I made him coffee and he gave me his name," Steve beamed at her. She smiled softly, placing her hand gently over his.

"Just... be careful, okay?" she said.

"I will," he promised. "And, uh, his name is Bucky," he added, still overly excited.

"Bucky..." she tasted the name on her lips. “It sounds familiar,” she frowned and thought about it for a second. "Well, nevermind," she gave Steve a genuine smile and squeezed his hand. "I'm happy for you," she said.

They spent the rest of the morning in silence, interrupted by occasional questions and monosyllable answers. They worked like this. Always in ease and sync, comfortable in their silence.

"Hey Nat, do you know sign language?" Steve asked later that day.

"Nope," she looked amusedly at him. "Only couple of gestures. Like Thank you, I like you, Me too," she shrugged. "You wanna impress your new boyfriend?" she poked him in his ribs, pushing him aside on their tiny couch so she could sit next to him.

"Paint my toes, pretty please?" she made her best puppy dog eyes and threw her feet into Steve's lap, ignoring the book he was reading.

"He's not my boyfriend!" Steve tried to sound offended, but he just couldn't with her. "And why should I paint your toes again? Ask Barton," he stuck his tongue out at her, feeling very mature while doing so.

"Pretty please, Steve," she pleaded, handing him a small bottle of pink nail polish. "You're the best at this, Clint always smudges the nail polish everywhere. It's a bitch of a clean up," she looked so sad. Steve couldn't believe he was falling for this trap. Again.

"Okay, fine!" he threw his hands up. "But I swear, you owe me for this," he pointed his finger at her and she cackled.

"Sure thing, love," she winked at him. "I might also know someone who knows sign language and would be willing to help you learn it," she added, smiling innocently.

"Do you?" he looked at her.

"Of course, dummy," she said, resting her head on the fluffy pillow. "She's a very good friend of mine who works in the campus info centre. She's great with sign language, even knows braille."

"I think that sign language 101 would be fine," he smiled, painting her toes carefully. The truth was, he didn't mind all that much. At least he had a task in hand he could concentrate on.

"Or you could ask _him_ to teach you some basics," she suggested, winking at him. And oh boy, would Steve love to learn some basics with Bucky.

"You make it sounds so easy," he sighed, smiling fondly. "Do you have any idea how stressfull it is for me? I have absolutely no idea what do do with him or what to say," he felt lost jsut thinking about it.

"Don't overthink it, Rogers. You'll do fine. Besides it's not like you actually have a date," she said.

"Thanks for reminding me," he huffed in annoyance.

She laughed and watched him with fond eyes. "You'll do fine, don't worry," she assured him.

**o_O_o_O_o_O_o**

Ever since that night when Steve made Bukcy a cup of coffe, Steve went to work with a clutching feeling in his chest, expecting another encounter with fastly beating heart. He was getting nervous just from thinking about Bucky. He spent hours with his sketchbook, trying to work the charcoal portrait to perfection, but it was hard to work from memory only. All he could remember were feelings, impressions and smells from that night. The warm scent of fresh coffee and the faint smell of old books that always reminded Steve of vanilla orchids. He was too consumed in the moment to really preserve Bucky's expression in his memory.

It was one of those days again - the slowly dragging one that flew by eventually. Steve occupied himself with work; sorting books, helping kids with their research and occasionaly watching the storm outside. He stood in front of the window on the second floor of the library, lost in thoughts and wishing the rain would stop. Normally he'd be happy it was raining, as he never considered himself being one of those people that were described in the famous quote.

“ _You say that you love rain, but you open your umbrella when it rains. You say that you love the sun, but you find a shadow spot when the sun shines. You say that you love the wind, but you close your windows when wind blows. This is why I am afraid, you say that you love me too.”_

Steve liked to walk in rain, mostly because he was running hot all the time and the rain would cool him down nicely. He just wasnt in the mood today. He wore a white cotton v-neck and forgot his jacket at home. Last time Steve got soaked wet with rain in such outfit, he got cat-called several time on the street and Stark even tried to corner him into his apartment to “dry you off, of course, what do you think, dumbass?”. So he silently pleaded the rain to stop.

When Steve returned back to the reception desk, there was a tall, dark figure and a note waiting for him.

_**'Have time for me?'** _

"Oh, Hi!" Steve beamed at him. "Sure I have time for you, how can I help?"

_**'I was hoping you could help me find a book by Klaus Mann? ... Please.'** _

"Which one are you looking for?"

 _**'Doesn't matter. Which one would you recomend?'** _ Bucky pushed the paper to Steve with a smirk plastered over his face. He looked well-rested and malicious in a way that two-month-old kitten looks when it tries to attack its sibillings.

"Uh, I noticed you like books with war themes, so I'd definitely go with Mephisto, which is about a guy who desperately wants to become a famous theatre actor and is willing to do anything for it. But I don't want to give much away," Steve scratched the back of his neck. "The plot is set during The Second World War in Germany, which is also author's homeland. It explores depths and consequences of our choices. It's a great parallel to Goethe's Faust, but I guess you know the whole deal with Faust in both classical and modern literature," Steve paused for a while, thinking.

"I'd also recommend you his other book that's known more for its shocking contents, considering the historical period it was published in - The Pious Dance. It tells a tale of a young man who wants to prove something to himself and his generation by making this amazing painting, but he fails. So he tries to find who he is, what's the purpose of his life and in order to do so he runs away from home. He falls in love with this handsome young man who only takes advantage of him. So he learns the hard way that love isn't always nice and life isn't easy at all," Steve looked up to Bucky who seemed to be very interested in what he was saying. "I can't help you much with his other books, since I've read only these two," Steve shrugged.

_**'So which one do you think is better?'** _

"Um, it's hard to tell," Steve said. "I liked both, but I think you're really gonna like Mephisto. The Pious Dance is written in more difficult language with a lot of epithetons and it's harder to fall for the plot. Mephisto is easier to follow and easier to get absorbed in, I guess," Steve gave Bucky a small smile.

Bucky nodded and seemed to think about what Steve had just said..

 _**'You convinced me. I'll go with Mephisto.'** _ he wrote.

"Cool," Steve smiled widely at him. "Just let me check where the book is," he held up one finger in the air in a _one second here_ gesture.

"It's in deposit, so I'm gonna retrieve it," Steve looked up at Bucky, who was smiling faintly. The little lights in his eyes were dancing untiringly. "Wait here, please," Steve said automatically like with every other kid who came into the library and needed a book that was stored away.

It was that kind of routine that didn't require any more brain activity than turning on a coffee maker. Luckily for Steve the book was exactly where it should've been. He thought it was because Lin wasn't allowed in deposit. Her supervisor wouldn't let her go there unless he was sure Lin understood how the spine labels worked. And that would probably take a while, Steve thought.

"Here it is," Steve put the book on top of the desk. "Do you wanna take the book with you?"

Bucky shurgged carelessly and fished out the small plastic card that worked both as a student ID and library card.

_James Barnes, huh._

Steve run the card and the book through their system and handed them back to Bucky.

"You know, if you don't want to go back to the rain, you can stay here," he found himself saying and wanted to kick himself immediately for it. It sounded so much better in his head.

 _**'I'd love to, but I can't. Maybe some other time, Stevie,'** _ when Steve read through that, he caught Bucky smirking. His look could only be described as smug.

"I, uh... how do you know my name?"

Bucky chuckled, pointing his hand towards Steve's chest.

"Oh, great," he facepalmed himself. "I'm an idiot," he laughed at his own silliness. They had to wear nametags in the library, so everyone would know who to ask for help since there were no official uniforms required

_**'It's only fair now that you know my whole name, don't you think?'** _

Steve blinked. Well, it wasn't his fault he worked at the reception. He kind of couldn't help looking at Bucky's name on the card.

"I guess?"

 _**'Not a big deal. See you later.'** _ Bucky waved at him with a smile and left before Steve gathered his witts.

"See ya," he mumbled to himself.

**o_O_o_O_o_O_o**

"What exactly do you think about kick box, Steve?"

"Isn't it, like, painful?" Steve looked up from his textbook. He tried to understand what it was saying, but all his thoughts were drifting to the short conversation he had with Bucky earlier that day.

"Scared you might get yourself a little boo-boo?" she crooned.

"Oh, you would know, wouldn't you?" he laughed. "But seriously now, why are you interested in kick box?"

"Need a change of pace, 's all," she shrugged nonchalantly.

"Really?" he didn't believe her.

"Okay, so I might want to wipe that smug grin off of Stark's face, alright?" she folded her arms over her chest in a defensive posture.

"Why? Is he threatening you or something?" Steve looked concerned. He knew that Nat had a hard time pushing her way through both elementary and high school. He didn't want her to ever feel the same.

"No," she rolled her eyes. She sighed and after a second of hesitation sat down next to Steve. "He's just been saying shit about me carrying Barton everywhere with me as my personal defender," she pursed her lips.

"That's not true, you can defend yourself just fine," Steve knew better than anyone what crazy amount of strenght was stored in her small body. She could take down any sleazy guy that would lay his filthy hands on her without breaking a sweat. Steve often marked it up to the fact that her father mastered several martial arts and Natasha was always more than willing to learn. He refused to go with any other explanation.

"Yeah, I can,” she admitted. “But the thing is I want to kick Stark's ass, not kill him. And for that I'd use some new skills," she smiled devilishly.

"So why kickbox? Cause I'm pretty sure you could kill him even with the basic training," Steve didn't like wehere it was going, but he trusted Natasha enough that he'd lay his life in her hands. He knew she'd never kill Stark.

"Just heard he's doing kickbox, so I'd very much love to defeat his sorry ass with his own methods. Proving him he's just a spolied little shit," she said, determined.

"You know," Steve started, "He might be a little spoiled shit, but he's been through hell. I think he does this just to build a wall around him. He's scared to let anyone in, so he pushes everyone away instead," Steve said.

They both fell silent.

"I hate to say it," she paused briefly, "but you might be right," she looked up at him, a hard look in her eyes. "But that doesn't change the fact I wanna do kickbox. And maybe have a friendly match with Stark to teach him a lesson in manners."

"Just... go easy on him, okay?" Steve knew it was worthless to try convince her otherwise. And maybe Tony would learn a thing or two from it, too, Steve hoped.

"Actually, I was hoping you'd go with me?" she looked at him, all coy eyes and innocent looks and Steve could hear how the trap she set clicked behind him.

"Don't look at me like that!" he stood up, shielding his eyes from her in a fake horror.

"Come on, Steve! It's gonna be fun, we could train together and watch the hot guys there," she knew what did the trick, but Steve decided to be strong.

"No way I'm having a broken nose and dislocated limbs again," he protested.

"That was five years ago and the guy who'd been training us was a total psycho," she rolled her eyes. "Please Steve? I promise if you don't like it you are free to quit the first day," she pleaded. And who was Steve to be mean to his best friend? After all, martial arts were kind of tempting for him.

"Fine, I'll go with you," he threw his hands up in the air and she leaped up on him from the couch in excitement, wrapping her legs and arms around him. Steve steadied them easily, avoiding the glass coffee table behind him.

“You're the best,” she laughed and hugged him tighter.

“I know,” he said fondly and walked them to the kitchen where he left Natasha on the kitchen counter.

“So, what are we cooking, captain?” she asked jokingly just as Steve threw an appron at her.

“ _You_ are cooking, remember? I painted your toes,” he laughed and left her there, wondering how could he ever live without her.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm gonna try my best and add another chapter ASAP. Hold on people.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Natasha finally drags Steve to a kickbox practice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So what's gonna happen when Natasha finally drags Steve to the kickbox training? :D 
> 
> I went through the story about a dozen times, but I'm sure I left some mistakes there anyway, so bear with me and enjoy it.

"So what's the whole deal with Stark being an asshole and you defending him?" Natasha asked as they walked side by side to the gym. 

"I thought you knew?" Steve looked at her, adjusting the shoulder strap of his gym bag so it'd be easier to carry around.

"I only act like I know everything," she shrugged.

Steve took in a deep breath, bracing himself mentally for what would come next.

"His folks died in a car accident when he was a teen. Only it wasn't an accident at all,“ he said.

„How'd you know that?“

„I went to the forensic labs with Tony to find out whether there was any progress in the case. My ma asked me to go with him,“ Steve looked firmly at the pavement. „And Tony got lost,“ _a deep breath in,_ „Except he didn't.“

„He snooped around?“ Natasha looked intrigued by the story.

„Kinda,“ Steve rubbed a hand over his face. „He saw what was left of his parent's car. With the blood still there,“ Steve remembered how deadly pale Tony was, shaking and stammering over his own words when he found him, trying hard to tell Steve what he'd seen. The image permanently burned in his memory. 

„Tony had checked the engine and later told me it was clear someone fumbled with it, disconnected brakes or something like it,“ Steve said, trying to push the memory back where it came from. „But the official police report said it was just a tragical accident,“ they walked in silence, both thinking about what Steve has just said. He could still hear the desperation in Tony's voice when he told him what he saw. 

„Tony didn't take it well, started pushing people away, drinking, living in denial. He was supposed to be taking over Stark Industries, but what the hell does a kid know about leading a company?" Steve shook his head, taking in a slow breath to continue. "I didn't know Tony much before, save for the summers we spent together as kids, but I knew his parents. Sort of,“ he paused. „They were very nice, especially his mom. She and my mom would go together to church every Sunday,“ and Steve would go with them very often too, loving the atmosphere the church had with all its smells and flickering lights.

„His dad, on the other hand, wasn't really around - too bussy with work, and Tony often complained he wasn't spending any time with him,“ Steve added to his story. „But that was before. We haven't spoken much since. Apart from occasional parties and such," Steve looked at Nat who seemed to be processing the information.

"Seems like he's really been through hell," she said in a soft voice. "How come you never told me you and Stark were friends?"

"It was back when you used to spend most summers in Russia, do you remember that?"

"Yeah. It always took fucking forever," she laughed. "I missed you pretty much."

"And I missed you," he bumped shoulders with her. "It got pretty lonely back here, so I made friends with Tony. But our ways separated later in life. I think what he really needs now is a good friend to help him pull through," he said eventually. "I had you for all these years, but him? I dont even remember seeing him with anyone else."

"What about Pepper?" Nat asked.

"She... well, she's been around for some time, but I think Tony loves her too much to let her see the wreck he's become," he finished just as they approached a two storey high building.

"This is it?" Steve quirked an eyebrow.

"Yep," she smiled, popping the p in her reply. "Get ready to have your ass kicked, Rogers," she cackled, entering the building.

"Whatever," Steve laughed and followed her inside.

When they both changed into their workout clothes, they were greeted by a tall guy with long blond hair pulled in a low pony tail. He was built like a brick shithouse and had the biggest smile Steve had ever seen. He introduced himself as Thomas and insisted they call him Thor like everybody else in the gym. Made sense to Steve.

"You'll start with my two best students who will teach you the basics, both in theory and practice. Once you got that, you can move on to our group training," Thor flashed them a smile and then told them to wait. He disappeared in the other room and returned a minute later with two guys in tow.

Steve's jaw almost hit the ground.

Almost fucking hit the ground.

"Close it, honey, something's gonna fly right in if you don't," Natasha whispered mockingly and pushed his mouth closed.

But Steve couldn't care less, he was too occupied with the tall brunet strutting towards him.

He was barefoot, black sweats hanging dangerously low on his hips, holding on for dear life. He wore a white tank top, low pony tail and his left arm -  _ Holy cow, is that a real metal?  _ Steve forced himself not to stare and looked at Bucky's face instead. He had a healthy flush across his cheeks and the bridge of his nose. His forehead and neck were glistening with sweat from the previous excercise. He was grinning, looking straight into Steve's eyes and Steve couldn't help the involuntary shivers running straight to his dick. He felt like a prey under Bucky's feral gaze.  _ And yes, he would love to be hunted down by him, thank you very much. _

He had to tear away his gaze eventually when Bucky and the other two men stopped in front of him and Natasha. He was so absorbed in Bucky and the swaying of his hips that he totally missed that the other guy approaching them was Sam, who worked with him at the library. They greeted like usually and Steve knew he would never live this one down, ever. He saw it in Sam's eyes that he's gonna tease Steve about Bucky all the damn time, just like Natasaha. He wanted to bang his head against a wall.

„This is James Barnes and Sam Wilson, my two best students that will help you with your beginnings,“ Thor introduced them and walked over to Steve and Nat to pat them on their backs with his huge paws. „This is Natasha and Steve,“ he added and took a moment to look at all of them, waiting if anyone had further questions.

„Well,“ Thor continued when no one seemed to have any questions, „have fun, kids," he said, grinning. "And you two," he pointed to Sam and Bucky, "take it easy on them, they are new," he winked and walked away to check on the other people at the gym.

Natasha, ever the knowing one, made a bee line for Sam, already talking to him about her plan and how she was willing to learn everything as quickly as possible, while Steve stood there, glued to the floor, not having the courage to make the first step forward.

Bucky shook his head with a fond smile on his lips, holding a finger in the air, telling him to wait. Steve made a mental note to start learning the sign language ASAP.

When Bucky returned it was with a tablet. He was typing on his way back and when he was within arms reach, he turned the screen to Steve.

_** 'What a surprise, Stevie. Wouldn't expect  ** _ ** you ** ** _here.'_ **

„Well, me neither. Natasha made me go,“ he nodded towards where she was working with Sam and Bucky followed with his gaze. He chuckled and gave Steve an amused look.

_** 'She bosses you around a lot?'  ** _ he asked with impudence that made Steve laugh.

„Nah,“ he smiled and looked at Bucky who was standing very close now. Steve felt the body heat Bucky was radiating and found himself leaning into it, wanting more. He quickly tore his eyes away from Bucky's pulse point where he could see the skin straining against the steady thumping of his blood, and looked him in the eye instead. „We work like that, it's cool,“ Steve finished with a smile, hoping Bucky hadn't noticed anything. The brunet nodded with a smile and started typing again.

_** 'We're gonna start off nice and easy, wouldn't want to break you. Okay?' ** _

"I'm not a porcelain doll," Steve huffed before he could stop himself. Bucky laughed and gave him a once-over.

_** 'We'll see about that. But for now, I'll show you the basics. You're gonna need your knuckles wrapped for that.' ** _

Bucky handed him the tablet and turned around for the blue hand wrap they were using in the gym.

"Okay, but I've never done this, so I don't exactly know how to," Steve looked at him, a little embarassed that he had never done that. It seemed like all the cool guys did this every other week - wrapped their knuckles in a bandage to train with a punching bag or something like it. And while Steve saw the appeal in that, he could never bring himself to try it. It reminded him too much of the fights he used to get into.

_** 'It's okay, I'll show you.'  ** _ Bucky winked at him and put the tablet away when Steve nodded. He shuffled close to Steve and took his right hand in his, looking up at him through his thick lashes while doing so. Steve swallowed, hard. With Bucky standing this close it was just so tempting. Steve could inch closer and kiss those curvy lips, wrap his arms around Bucky's lower back and push their bodies flush together. Steve needed to get thoughts straight.

Bucky was the first to break their eye contact, however, looking down in order to work on the bandage. 

Steve noticed that Bucky's flesh hand was wrapped in the hand wrap while his artificial one wasn't and for a brief moment he wondered whether he could feel anything with it, but thought it'd be rude to ask.

Bucky started wrapping the thick blue banndage around Steve's knuckles and hand, making it safer and easier to work with. His fingers worked quickly and efficiently. Steve wondered how many times had Bucky done it and how long it would take to build a habit out of it. He tried to ignore the confusing feeling of Bucky's warm, flesh hand and his cold metal one. It was sending electric chills through his whole body and Steve had to remind himself to breath and overcome the growing itch to touch and kiss the brunet.

When Bucky was done, he looked up at Steve, mouthing 'Good?' at him. It forced Steve to look down at Bucky's lips and read them, noticing the sinful line of his upper lip that was tempting him with every passing second. He needed to do something.

"Yeah, let's begin," Steve rasped. 

He felt the flush high on his cheeks and hoped it wasn't too obvious how bad he had it for Bucky. He cleared his throat and run a hand through his blond hair, bravely ignoring any of his dirty thoughts. He hoped it wasn't too obvious.

_** 'Let's warm up before we get started. I'll do it with you.' ** _

They moved to a less occupied area and Steve mirrored all of Bucky's moves. The warm up was simple, designed to get the blood flowing, get the heart rate up and relax the muscles before the actual workout. It gave Steve enough mental space to clear his head and put himself into the excercise.

It took them solid ten minutes before Bucky felt satisfied. He walked back to their previous spot and grabbed two focus pads on his way, securing them on his forearms. He gestured to someone behind Steve.

"Need help?" Thor's voice came from behind. "Uh, oh... of course you do," he smiled and stood in a safe distance.

"Now, Steve, is it?" he looked at Steve.

"Yes, sir," he replied.

"Start with simple cross punch, two for each arm," Thor instructed. "Come on, you can punch harder than that, Bucky can take it," Thor challenged him. With Bucky being mute and not being able to voice out the commands, it was a lot easier that way.

Steve punched as hard as he could, changing angles and punches as he was instructed. By the time he worked up to kicking the focus pads as well, he felt sweat trickling down his back, soaking his grey t-shirt and making it stick to his damp skin.

"Come on, Steve, one more right here," Thor encouraged him. Steve felt exhausted, his shoulders and back were burning. "I think you did pretty good for a beginner," Thor patted him on his back.

„Thanks,“ Steve panted, wiping off the sweat from his brow.

„You can switch with Bucky now, if you feel like it?“ Thor asked and Steve quickly nodded, happy he could rest for a bit.

„Are your shoulders good?“ Thor asked as he helped to secure the focus pads on Steve's forearms.

„I think so,“ he said, holding his arms in front of him to shield his face. „We'll see.“

„Okay Bucky, go easy on him, just in case,“ Thor warned and watched as Bucky got into position and started punching the pads. Steve knew Bucky wasn't giving him his best, but he still found it hard to keep his stance.

They'd been training for at least an hour, or at least that was what it felt like to Steve who was fully focusing on Bucky now. He was flushed and sweaty, but never slowed down his pace. Steve noticed that his metal arm was far stronger than his flesh one and he had to brace himself a lot more for the punches.

Steve was growing steadily more and more tired and so it naturally happened that he stopped paying attention at some point. And Bucky chose that exact moment to roll a slightly harder punch that threw Steve off his balance and sent him on the ground.

It was nothing he couldn't handle, but Bucky still appeared over him almost immediately with a worried expression on his face.

„I'm fine, I'm fine,“ Steve laughed, embarassed. „It was my mistake anyway,“ he added.

Bucky shook his head, still worried, and helped Steve back up.

"I think you two should finnish here and hit the showers,“ Thore spoke from somewhere near them, but Steve couldn't be bothered by it even if his life depended on it. Not when Bucky was holding him close, checking for any injuries he might've had.

„Seriously Bucky, I'm alright,“ Steve said softly, a small smile playing on his lips.

_**'Sorry'**_ he mouthed guiltily and let go.

„Don't be, I wasn't paying attention at that moment,“ Steve laughed it off and threw a quick glance at Natasha. She was pretty sweaty too, but seemed to rather enjoy the training. Steve had to admit it wasn't as bad as he'd expected it to be. And deep inside he knew exactly why.

He looked back at Bucky who was putting the focus pads away and started working on his hand wrap. Couple of stray strands of his hair fell out of his pony tail and were now glued to his face. Steve had look away, he was risking he'd get caught staring. Again. So instead of staring he got down on the ground to start on his cool down routine that would relax his tense muscles.

He was roughly at the middle of it when Bucky grabbed a water bottle and threw it at Steve. He caught it at the last second, startled and wide-eyed.

"Thanks," he blurted out. His heart was racing inside his chest and Steve wasn't sure which one caused it; the suddenly thrown bottle or Bucky's now shirtless torso - he couldn't tell. Bucky was doing something on his tablet, which gave Steve the opportunity to ogle him. He mapped Bucky's chest, taking in the little scars around Bucky's bionic arm and the nicely defined pecks and abs he wanted to put his mouth on. 

_** 'You really did good today for a beginner. Wondered if I wasn't too harsh on you?'  ** _ Bucky wrote. Steve smiled, looking at Bucky with tired eyes.

"Thanks," he said. "And no, you weren't. It was cool,“ Steve smirked and waited for Bucky to sit next to him on the floor. „How long have you been doing kickbox anyway?" he asked curiously.

_** 'About five years, I guess. It's a great stress relief,' ** _

"Oh, I bet it is," Steve laughed. "It makes me want to lay down and sleep," he joked. 

_** 'Come on, you need a shower first. You're drenched.'  ** _ Bucky flashed him amused smile and grabbed Steve's hand, dragging him to the changing room.

"Gross," Steve laughed, taking his towel with him.

Steve expected it to be awkward. Or filled with sexual tension. 

But neither happened. 

It resembled a high school locker room after a football practice. Men were slowly piling in and it left only a limited space for sexual fantasies. And even if there were any, Steve pushed them so deep into his unconsciousnes that they had to meet Sigmund Freud along the way.

He tried to clear his head and relax, let the hot water wash out the tension in his muscles. He sighed in relief and closed his eyes under the spray of water. He all but forgot about Bucky untill he stood next to him in the locker room twenty minutes later. All wet and dreamy.

A white towel was wrapped carelessly around the brunet's hips, threatening to fall down any minute. Steve swiftly followed the single water drop that rolled down from Bucky's hair over his toned chest and disappeared in the hem of his towel.

They dressed in silence and Steve had to remind himself to stop sneaking glances at Bucky, not knowing whether he was on the same page with him yet. He wished he was. And he also wished he had the balls to ask Bucky on a date, but he didnt find it in him. He told himself that Bucky probably wouldn't be interested anyway. 

But a small, tiny voice within him protested, telling him Bucky was sneaking glances at him the whole time as well. If only Steve wasn't so stubborn to admit it.

Finally, Steve slunged his gym bag over his shoulder, waiting for Bucky to put on his leather jacket and leather glove. He guessed that nobody would like the attention the artificial arm was dragging. As they were walking out the building, Bucky made couple of gestures with his hands, leaving Steve staring blankly at him.

"I'm sorry, but I don't know sign language," he blushed, embarassed. Bucky smiled at him instead, waving his hand.

When they stepped outside, Natasha was already waiting there, toying with her phone. Her hair was still damp from the shower and she had a blissed look on her face.

"So, how did you like it?" she put the phone away and let her eyes wander over to Bucky. She was looking at him curiously, drinking in every detail.

"It was pretty cool, I think I'm gonna come with you the next time," he grinned. 

She gave him a flat look, expecting Steve to introduce her.

"Oh," he scratched the back of his neck. "Bucky, this is Natasha, my best friend. Nat, this is Bucky," they shook hands and Nat gave Bucky a warm smile.

"It's nice to finally meet you, Steve told me a lot about you," she smirked and Steve looked offended.

"Nat!"

"Hush, Steve," she silenced him. "I was wondering if maybe you'd join us for milkshake?" she offered.

_ And what the hell? They haven't talked about any milkshakes!  _ Unless Natasha had a plan.

Bucky smiled at her, then looked at Steve, searching for a silent permission. Steve returned the smile and watched Bucky say something in sign language that made Natasha laugh. Apparently she knew much more of it than she'd admitted, Steve thought just as she grabbed Bucky by elbow and winked at both of them.

"Let's go," she said, leading the way. 

Steve felt vaguely anxious, afraid Natasha would spill her beans. Well, his beans technically, but that wasn't the point. He had to remind himself that she would never do such thing and that his secrets were safe with her.

They walked through the empty streets and Steve caught himself guessing where were they going. He didn't know any milkshake joints around that particular part of the city. He frowned when they stood in front of a nicely decorated candy store.

They were playing Candyman by Christina Aguilera quietly in the background and Steve found it endlessly amusing, thinking Bucky would make an exquisit Candyman (complete with the panties dropping and cherry popping routine, of course).

"I hope we're not holding you up or anything?" Nat asked as they sat down at their table. The place was decorated with bright and rich colours. Jars with various candies were covering most of the walls the place had. A mint and pink wallpaper was peaking from behind the half-empty jars and the whole place smelled like cotton candy and honey. The small tables for customers were made from heavy, dark wood. Cherry wood, Steve guessed.

It was surprising the place was still open, the ancient clock on the wall suggested it was 21:25. It was more creepy than sweet this late at night, like some sort of trap for wandering children. 

"What's the matter with you, Steve?" Natasha poked him.

"Uh, nothing, just thinking," he put on a fake smile, just as the waitress approached them. She wore pink uniform with white polka dots. She was tiny and blond with cute little button nose and full lips. Steve thought she was beautiful, but there was something about her that made him feel uneasy. She kind of looked like blonde version of Natasha, he thought.

"So what can I get you?" she asked with a smile that matched everything sweet in the store.

"Strawberry milkshake for me," said Nat and looked at Bucky, who gestured something to her. "Coconut cream milkshake for him and... Steve?" she raised her eyebrow at him.

"Uh, I'll get the strawberry one too," he smiled quickly and made a mental note to protest if they ever want to go there again. His eyes landed on the creepy porcelain dolls under bell glasses. They looked rotten and it made the tiny hair at the back of Steve's head stand up in horror. He felt the little shivers running down his back and this time it wasnn't because Bucky's leg was touching his under the tine table. It was the damn place.

Bucky took the tablet out of his bag and typed something in, pushing it closer to Steve when he was done.

_** 'Are you sure you are okay? You seem distant.' ** _

"No, no, I'm really okay," he assured Bucky, looking him right in his icy blue eyes. "I'm just tired, that's all. You wore me out pretty much," he laughed.

Bucky nodded and bit his lip, trying to hide his smile.

_** 'It's this place, right? Downright creepy,' ** _

"How did you-" Bucky silenced him with a gesture.

_** 'About two years ago the equipment of this place consisted of body-sized refrigerators and corpses. It used to be a morgue. Until they decided to move it closer to the police station and some crazy lady made it into a candy store. Gives me the creeps all the time.' ** _

Bucky pushed it to Steve, who couldn't hide his smirk at the absurdity of the whole thing. Nat read it too, cackling.

„I don't know about you, but now I feel like eating ice cream," she laughed and Steve gave her a flat look, trying not to crack up.

The young waitress served them their drinks and they continued in their conversation like they were old friends. Steve found out that Bucky was indeed born in Russia and moved to the U.S. when he was twelve, following his father's career.

_**'This tastes like heaven.'**_ Bucky pointed to his milkshake, smiling.

„Oh, really?“ Steve laughed, his eyes dropping down to Bucky's tongue that was chasing the last drop of his coconut milkshake from his pink lips.

_**'Wanna get a taste?'**_ Bucky wiggled his eyebrows, which made Natasha burst out laughing.

Steve knew he was beet red.

He tried to play it cool and shrugged nonchalantly. „Sure, why not,“ he said, awaiting Bucky's reaction.

Bucky pushed his glass towards Steve, watching him with mischievous glint in his eyes. Steve closed his lips around the straw and moaned when the rich taste hit his tongue.

„God, this is perfect!“ he savored the taste with his eyes closed. He heard both Bucky and Natasha laughing at him, but he didn't really mind. He knew he looked comical.

It was already late when they left the small candy store. Steve shuddered in relief when he was out the door which elected a chuckle from Bucky. 

"I feel like I should leave you two alone," Natasha winked at them, her cell phone already in her hand.

"I don't know, I don't want you to walk alone this late," Steve frowned. He was perfectly willing to sacrifice his alone time with Bucky.

"You're sweet," she patted his cheek. A motorbike approached them and it pulled over right next to them. "But well," she continued, "me and Clint have a science project to finnish, so it's not like you have to worry," she jumped on the bike, just as Clint flipped his hemlet open, nodding his head in greeting.

"Science project, suure,“ Steve laughed and she punched his shoulder playfully. „Take care, Nat," he kissed her on the cheek.

"Don't stay up too late, boys,“ she teased in return and put on her own helmet. „It was nice to meet you, Bucky,“ she winked at them before she wrapped her arms around Clint and flipped her helmet close. She gave them one last wave of hand before Clint twisted up the speed and they disappeard into the night.

_** 'Who was that? If I can ask...' ** _

"Uh, Clint Barton. He and Nat have quite a history, I think they are together again, but neither of them would tell me. Anyway... do you want me to walk you to your place?" Steve looked at Bucky, trying not to expect too much

_** 'I won't mind if you do.'  ** _ he typed in.

"Good," Steve smiled. "Lead the way."

Bucky gave him a wry smile, half-saluting with just two fingers. Steve found that gesture endearing. 

It felt only natural to fall in pace with Bucky's steps, to brush their hands occasionally and exchange shy looks while at it. Steve felt lost and for the first time in his life, he wasn't afraid he wouldn't find his way out. They were keeping a nice, meaningless small talk and Steve allowed himself to drown in Bucky's eyes every so often. He prided himself in making Bucky laugh with his stupid jokes and smiled when a warm, familiar feeling spreaded in his chest.

And suddenly Bucky stopped in his steps, looking up at Steve. He gestured with his right hand to the tall building behind him.

"So..." Steve started, but had no idea what to say next. Bucky seemed to realize that and he watched Steve with amusement in his eyes. "It was fun today," he said lamely. Bucky nodded with a smile.

"Well, I better get going. It's pretty late," he rubbed the back of his neck.

_** 'Natasha gave you curfew?'  ** _ Bucky asked teasingly. Steve chuckled, shaking his head.

„She doesn't have that kind of power over me,“ he said with a quiet laugh.

Bucky grinned wide and mouthed _** 'Good'  ** _ at Steve before licking his lips. He stepped closer, invading Steve's personal space. Steve could feel Bucky's hot breath ghosting over his cheek and neck, making him weak in knees. Bucky slowly draged his eyes from Steve's mouth back to his eyes, inching closer with every heartbeat.

Steve sneaked his right hand around Bucky's waist, pressing him flush against his chest. He could feel every delicious breath Bucky took. His warmth was mingling with his, their heartbeat in perfect sync. Bucky reached out to cup Steve's face gently with his flesh hand, tilting it ever so slightly to his liking. 

When their lips finally met, Steve whined deep in his throat and pressed closer to Bucky, fisting his other hand in the brown locks. Bucky's lips were plush and warm, moving against Steve's in a lazy kiss. Steve relaxed his hand and cradled Bucky's skull, threading his fingers through his silken hair to play with them. He opened his mouth obidiently when Bucky nipped on his bottom lip, demanding entrance. He felt Bucky humm softly into the kiss, the vibrations making Steve melt against the strong grip Bucky had on his hip.

He still faintly tasted of coconuts.

When they pulled apart, they were both panting and flushed like couple of teenagers after their first kiss. Steve rested his forehead against Bucky's, smiling coyly. They stood like that for a while before Bucky pulled away, pecking Steve on his lips as he finally let go. He winked at Steve and saluted him in goodbye. Steve bit his bottom lip and mirrored his gesture, watching Bucky disappear in the old building with a hazy look in his eyes.

He was screwed.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wasn't sure about this chapter at all, took me forever to edit it and make the words flow. Hope it wasn't that disasterous! :D


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know it took me over 3 weeks to add a new chapter and I'm so so terribly sorry for that!  
> To explain why - at the middle of September I started attending a university and unfortunately I'm a freshman which means I don't know shit about any of the stuff you're supposed to do. Plus I had to move to a different city.  
> So please accept my dearest apologies, I've been trying hard to make another chapter ASAP, but it kinda didn't work out. 
> 
> P.S.: if you find any typos or nonsense, it's because I couldn't really put my mind into it. So please feel free to tell me :) And thank you all for the amazing comments you left me! It helps a lot! :)

"So you and Clint, huh?" Steve asked in a mocking tone. She wasn't sleeping at their apartment the last night and Steve would've bet that Clint just dropped her in front of their apartment complex as of two minutes ago. She smelled faintly of his aftershave.

"So you and Barnes, huh?" she imitated his voice, unafected by the nosy question.

"Enough said, I guess," Steve laughed, throwing his hands up in surrender. She took off her jacket and hung it in the hallway before joining Steve in their living room.

"Got you little something from your lover boy," she smirked and held out a small piece of paper between her index and middle finger. Steve launched himself after it, but Natasha was quicker and pulled the paper from his reach before he could grab it. "Someone's eager," she cackled maliciously and then managed to dodge Steve's two other attempts before she finally gave it to him.

**'Meet me this Friday at 19:30 by the city gallery.  
752-03851 if you need anything ;)  
\- Bucky'**

Steve smiled so hard his mimic muscles hurt.

"Thanks, Nat," he said, already pulling out his cell to save Bucky's number.

"You two, I swear," she shook her head, patting Steve on his thigh.

"What?" he looked up from his phone.

"Lovesick puppies, really," she smiled and went to the kitchen to get herself a glass of water.

Steve had his head in clouds for the rest of the day. He was thinking about Bucky and their half-date after the kickbox training. He had that warm feeling spreading through his veins and he could swear he heard Bucky laugh in his head. The echo of it was shattering softly against his memories.

The laugh.

_His laughter._

It bugged Steve and he felt dumb for asking himself such questions. It was like an itch you can't scratch, but worse. He never gave it a thought before, whether mute people can laugh or not. And for some unknown reason he felt too shy and embarassed to just look it up online in his own privacy. It felt too much like the one time he tried to look up some terms concerning sex. He'd rather talk to Natasha than try to explore the seedy places of the internet. Again.

"Nat? Do you have a minute?" Steve knocked on her door later that day.

"Sure think honey, come on in," she replied.

Steve opened the door and closed it as soon as he was in, scared that the answers he was looking for could escape through the tiny slit in the door.

Nat's room was simple and as always, neatly clean. The walls were covered with photos set in colorful frames of all kinds. A lot of those pictures were of her and Steve as kids. Some were with Clint and her parents.

"Sit," she gestured on the empty spot next to her on the bed. "What is it?" she asked, tilting her head to one side. Steve sat down and took a deep breath. He hated when Natasha was tilting her head like that. It made him feel like he's under x-ray vision.

"How is it with mute people? Can they laugh?" he asked. _So it's out_.

"Well," she paused for a second, "you see, people who are born without their vocal chords, or they had them removed, can't produce any sound, not even laughter," she looked at him and then continued. "But there are also people who become mute during their life - they either decide to or are traumatized by some episode in their life and they can't bring themselves to speak again," she said and watched Steve with soft eyes.

"Oh," his shoulders slumped. "So you think...?"

„He probably wen't through a lot, Steve,“ she took one of his hands into hers and gave him a small smile.

„I just... I don't know,“ he whined, frustrated.

„He'll tell you when the time is right, on his own conditions,“ she brushed his blond hair away from his eyes and made him look at her. „So what's wrong?“ she asked quietly.

„I guess,“ he paused, frowning, „I guess that I didn't expect the possibility that he could speak again. I mean... if he wanted,“ he finnished, looking at the ground.

„You'll work it out,“ she assured him and caressed his back.

Steve let his body fall down on her bed and closed his eyes firmly, thinking. He wanted to know the story behind Bucky's silence. He was curious what kind of horrible faith stole his voice away for good. He was also hoping that one day he would hear Bucky talk, hear him whispering his name sweetly.

Natasha curled next to him and laid her head on his chest. Steve smiled, glad that he had her. That he had Bucky. And at that moment he was sure there's nothing to worry about. If only he knew.

**o_O_o_O_o_O_o**

"How the fuck do you dress to a gallery anyway?" Steve cussed, fumbling with the tiny buttons on the cuffs on his wrists. _Fucking slippery buttons._

Two fell down on the floor.

"Just go with it, Rogers," Natasha scoffed. She stood on the tips of her toes so she could reach Steve's hair. She combed through them with her long fingers, applying hair wax and making them look wet and sleek.

“But Nat!” Steve whined like a kicked puppy, looking at his wrist.

“Come here,” she took his wrist in her hands and examined the plain fabric where the tiny buttons were supposed to be. “You're a lost case, Rogers,” she said, somewhat fondly, the corners of her mouth twitching up slightly.

“I think we'll need to adapt your look a bit, but don't worry, it's gonna be okay,” she assured him and gestured towards his bed “You can sit for now,” there was definitely a glint of danger and thrill in her eyes. It made Steve's head spin, so he sat down, his shoulders slumped and collapsed in resignation.

 _There is so much to fuck up,_ he thought.

“Look at me, Steve,” she encouraged him and gave him a warm smile. “It's not the end of the world, buttons pop all the time,” she patted his cheek and disappeared in his wardrobe, fishing for something to replace his shirt with.

She was back within seconds, holding out a loose v-neck and navy blue blazer with goldish buttons that made his eyes stand out.

“You sure about this?” he questioned.

“Seriously Steve?” she raised her eyebrow and it was all it took Steve to shut it and just go with her choice. He had to admit it looked good on him. Maybe even better than he'd supposed it would. Except one thing.

"I look like a fucking rich boy!" he complained, but there was laughter colouring his voice. Nat punched his arm, pretending to be offended.

"You look hot, so shut up," she smiled and grabbed the hair wax she abandoned earlier. "And now stay still, you're fidgeting like a kid," she was used to Steve's nervosity and low self-esteem, although sometimes she just couldn't understand how could Steve feel so low about himself. He was gorgeous.

It took her couple more minutes to finish the look she was going for. “I'd suggest you use that spicy sweet parfume of yours and take the brown casual shoes. He won't know what hit him,” she cackled.

"Thank you, Nat," he smiled at her and kissed her on the cheek. "I'd be lost without you," he winked at her and took the jeans she picked up for him earlier.

"Try not to be nervous, okay? It's just a date, not dinner with Queen Elizabeth," she reminded him.

"Easy for you to say, you're natural in these things," he sighed, buckling up the belt and checking for his phone and keys.

"Who says you are not?" she smiled and stood behind him to massage his shoulders. "You can be pretty charming, you know? And I've seen the way Barnes looks at you. He really likes you, Steve," she rested her chin on his shoulder, looking at him in the mirror.

"I know you're right. Women are always right," he smiled at her.

"Yeah, so stop internally freaking out, you already look gorgeous. If you weren't gay and I wasn't dating Clint, I'd hit on you so hard you'd have concussion," she joked and it made Steve feel better. He knew, deep inside, that he looked good. He just found it hard to believe that anyone else would find him attractive too.

Natasha returned quickly with couple of shiny packets in her hand. "Also take these, they might come in handy," she shoved the condoms at Steve, who barely managed to catch them.

"Nat! It's not that kind of date!" he was blushing furiously.

"Of course not, honey," she cackled. "But try to tell him that when he fucks you against the wall, claiming that all the masterpieces already hang there," she said sweetly and Steve almost jumped out of his skin.

"I'm mortified," he hid his face in his arms and pretended to be dying because of embarassment.

"Come on you big soft baby," she took his hands and dragged him towards the door. "You don't want to be late for your first date with prince charming, do you?"

"No, I guess," he said meekly.

"See?" she smiled and fished her car keys from her jacket. "Now, here are the rules - no smoking, drinking and eating in the car and also no sex in the back seat, got it?" she let the keys dangling on her index finger for Steve to grab them.

"It's not like I'm gonna put out on the first date, Nat," he rolled his eyes and took the keys. "Promise I'll be home before midnight, okay?" he smiled at her and kissed her goodbye.

"Have fun, Rogers!" she smiled and closed the door behind him.

**o_O_o_O_o_O_o**

The drive to the city art gallery wasn't long, but it felt like eternity to Steve. Without Natasha by his side and her constant cheering he felt giddy and nervous, trying to convince himself he's gonna do fine. By the time he parked Nat's car he felt like throwing up with nervosity. He breathed deeply, composing himself enough to walk the short distance to the gallery. Bucky was already waiting for him on the wide stone stairs near the entrance.

When he saw Steve, his whole face lit up.

Bucky was wearing tight jeans that drew too much attention to his perfect ass; a red graphic t-shirt Steve couldn't really see and a black blazer with sleeves pushed up his forearms, his prosthetic limb shining in the dim evening light. He looked gorgeous.

"Hi," Steve breathed out when he stood in front of Bucky, a little breathless from running up the long stairs. His hands found their way around Bucky's waist automatically like they were made to hold him just like that. Bucky smiled sweetly at him, mouthing 'Hi' and wrapping his arms around Steve's neck in return.

"Missed you," Steve whispered, so only Bucky could hear it. He looked at his lips and they curled up in a small, private smile that Steve was sure was meant only for him. He leaned in, brushing his lips against Bucky's, feeling the brunete shiver in his arms. When Steve tried to pull away, Bucky didn't let him to. He caught his lips with his instead to give Steve a proper kiss.

When they finally parted, they were both smiling, their eyes fogged beautifuly. Bucky smiled at Steve and leaned away slightly so he could reach into the breast pocket of his blazer. He pulled out two tickets and waved them in front of Steve's face.

"Wow, you already bought the tickets? How long have you been waiting here?" Steve asked with wide eyes. _He could not be that late for their first date!_

Bucky chuckled and shook his head, grabbing Steve's hand instead to lead him inside the galery.

"What are we seeing?" Steve asked.

Bucky motioned towards a big colorful poster on one of the gallery walls. _The Impressionists._

"You like them?" Steve asked with a raised brow. He loved the Impressionists himself, but knew better than to squeak in excitement like a little girl. Last thing he needed was to scare Bucky off.

The brunet nodded, his lips curved up nicely while he searched Steve's face.

"Cool, I like them too," he returned the smile.

They passed the door keeper, who checked their tickets and went to the first show room. It was spacious, filled with painting and softly looking sofas. There were fresh flowers in elegant vases, too. Orchids and lillies. Steve liked them. The air was sparkling with glee and old fashioned parfumes. Old ladies in their expensive dresses were walking slowly around the room with their husbands following them devotedly.

People were chatting quietly in their admiration for the great paintings and Steve felt all the tension leaving his body. The place felt familiar to him - the sweet and heavy scent in the air and his own steps muffled by the thick carpet created an illusion of being at home.

 _ **'Do you like it?'**_ Bucky nudged his tablet in front of Steve's eyes to make him focus again.

"Absolutely," Steve beamed at him and rested his hand on Bucky's lover back. "I can't remember the last time I've been in an art gallery," he sighed with joy, guiding Bucky to the first painting on their right.

_**'I thought you might like it. Saw your sketch the other night. You're very talented.'** _

"When have you seen any of my sketches?" Steve asked, baffled.

 _ **'The night I stayed too long in the library and you didn't throw me out? When I walked out around the reception I've seen your sketchbook, it was just laying there. You made me look far better than I am.'**_ Bucky had a happy grin on his face when Steve looked at him again.

"Oh God, now I feel embarassed," he flushed.

 _ **'Don't be. Your art is amazing.'**_ Bucky poked him and they moved to another painting.

Water Lilies by Claude Monet

"I've always loved how devoted they were to their art and goals. They went through a lot trouble to maintain their art. And in the end they succeeded," Steve said, watching the painting closely. He liked the broken strokes of paint brush, the colours and somewhat unfinished look. It was truly an impression and Steve could imagine standing by the lake, watching the peaceful water lilies himself.

"Why did you pick the Impressionists anyway?" Steve asked curiously.

 _ **'Oh, I only did it for Monet.'**_ Steve bursted out laughing, covering his mouth quickly.

"You just did not do that!" he was so offended by Bucky.

 _ **'What can I say, it was calling for it.'**_ Bucky smirked like the little bastard he was and Steve shook his head with affection.

"Youre unbelievable," Steve chuckled and slid his arm around Bucky's waist again, taking him away from Water Lilies to Impression, Sunrise.

They looked at the painting in silence, taking in the scenery. The colours seemed transparent and foggy at the same time. They covered the whole scene in a weil of mystery. Steve almost felt his skin crawling with the morning dampness you could feel very early in the morning if you were wandering through a busy port.

_**'It reminds me of Arkhangelsk in late summer... my mom used to take me there when my father was too busy with work. We'd stay there for days.'** _

"That sounds beautiful. Tell me more," Steve wanted to know everything about Bucky. He barely knew his name which was so far from knowing the story it was hiding.

_**'There's not much to it, really. We just walked around the docks, I loved the big cargo ships that were berthed there. And sometimes it looked just like this painting here. Fog everywhere, you could hear the seagulls, but they were nowhere to be seen. The air smelled fresh, salty and a little bit cold...'** _

"You really must've loved it there," Steve said with a soft voice, brushing making small circles into Bucky's lower back.

 _ **'I still do. But I havent been there for years.'**_ Bucky shrugged and gave Steve a small smile.

They were slowly moving around the spacious room, stopping at each painting to marvel its beauty. Each painting evoked old memories, triggered new sensations and forgotten dreams they lost a long time ago. They always stood close to each other, afraid the other might disappear. They shared whatever sprang to their minds when they saw a new picture. Both silly and serious stuff that flashed in their thoughts.

Bucky saw a lot of memories peeking from the smudgy strokes of brushes. He spent most of his childhood in Russian countryside with his mother and grandparents. He was running free along the river stream with his hair brushed by the wind and his skin kissed by the sun. Bucky never cared about scraped knees or bruises. He was free in his own world, followed by pudgy white tom cat named Мышонок who was like a dog to the little kid. And Bucky saw every moment of his childhood in the galery, right in front of his eyes.

Steve, on the other hand, saw his dreams and flashbacks of his recent history staring back at him from the pictures. Although he had deep admiration for nature, he never spent as much as a week away from the city. He wondered about Bucky's childhood and how wonderful it must've been, growing up tied with the tall grass and never ending woods. Every step laced with rain and fresh air. But deep inside Steve knew it wasn't all there was to Bucky's childhood. He sensed the dark undertone his personality gained during the years. And he was getting scared of what it was that changed Bucky so much.

 _ **'What do you think we grab some coffee?'**_ Bucky asked when they were done with the gallery, almost two hours later.

"I could be persuaded," Steve flashed Bucky his Hollywood smile, as Natasha called it, and held the door open for him.

 _ **'Ever the gentlemen, Rogers.'**_ Bucky chuckled and then typed some more. _**'Goes perfectly with your spoiled rich boy look.'**_ there was nothing but pure mischief behind Bucky's words and Steve could see it in his eyes.

And Steve could get on with this game. He felt pretty confident, drunk on his own charm and Bucky's little encouragments.

“So I look like a rich boy, huh?” Steve leaned into to Bucky's personal space and dragged him closer by his waist. “Do you like spoiled brats that get what they want?” he whispered quietly to Bucky's ear, brushing his lips against the sensitive skin. Bucky shuddered in Steve's arms, faint blush was already spreading across the bridge of his nose.

"That's what I thought," Steve purred and bit Bucky's jaw before he pulled away to enjoy the hazy look in Bucky's eyes.

 _ **'I'll get back at you for this, Rogers.'**_ he typed, but Steve knew he wasn't mad at him at all.

"Sure you will, Buck," Steve grinned and with one hand on Bucky's waist he walked down the wide stairway. "But there's a delicious coffee there somewhere that's waiting for us," he winked at Bucky and kissed his cheek.

Steve felt more in control of his actions than he ever did. The pure fact that he made Bucky blush made him feel warm all over. He thought that Bucky had some sort of rich boy kink, but brushed the thought away quickly, not wanting to explore it further, just yet. There'd be plenty time for that later on.

_**'Any idea where are we going?'** _

“There's a small café just around the corner,” Steve paused only to steer them to another narrow lane. “It's half antique shop, half café, actually. They have the best coffee in town,” he said with a smile, his hand safe and snug on Bucky's waist.

 _ **'Can't wait to see it.'**_ Bucky was smiling and Steve knew they had this mutual feeling in their guts. Didn't take a rocket scientist to know that Bucky felt as good as Steve did.

It was barely ten metres from the street corner - a small, sunken door painted black. Bucky almost went on walking, but Steve stopped him. "Don't go, please," he joked and opened the door for Bucky to go in.

When Bucky set his foot behind the treshold, sudden warmth washed over him. The smell of old books was blending with the smell of coffee and cinnamon. There was old furniture everywhere - dark wood and ancient sofas with brocade upholstery that whispered tales of history, of their owners.

"Come on, don't stand there," Steve said quietly near Bucky's neck and it startled him a bit. He had to shake his head to follow Steve to one of the small tables near the back of the caffee with soft looking sofa pushed against the wall.

"Please, after you," Steve gestured with his hand and let Bucky sit down on the plush sofa. The fabric was soft to the touch, too. It was indeed brocade and Bucky wondered what kind of crazy person would invest in such an expensive furniture for their café.

 _ **'I love it in here, it's awesome!'**_ Bucky typed hastily in his excitement. There were so many details everywhere! And the smell!

"I'm happy you like it," Steve chuckled, squeezing Bucky's shoulder before letting go in order to grab the menu from the table.

Steve was sitting next to Bucky, relaxed against the dark green upholstery, one hand thrown around the back of the couch, over Bucky's shoulders. The place was almost empty save for two girls sitting by the window drinking wine and three old men discussing firecely something over a chess board and over what looked like liquor and coffee.

 _ **'How did you find this place?'**_ Bucky asked with curiosity, still studying many details of the place.

"First day of college. I got lost in the city and was too stubborn to ask anyone where I was. So I kept wandering and when I passed these doors I just couldn't resist and walked in. It had such an amazing atmosphere that I stayed for nearly an hour, drinking coffee and drawing," Steve smiled and pushed the menu back on the table.

_**'So you come here often?'** _

"More or less, yes," Steve paused for a while. "I just feel good in here. Kinda safe, you know? Like the outside world can't reach me in here because the time has stopped," he finished with a soft voice.

 _ **'Feels eve better when you're here.'**_ Bucky looked at Steve with such honesty that it made Steve's heart swell with affection. He leaned in and pressed his lips against Bucky's, enjoying their warmth and softness.

Steve wanted to reply, but a waitress cleared her throat in front of them, so he shut his mouth and turned to face her with a faint blush.

"So what's it going to be, gentlemen?" she smiled knowingly at Steve. He knew that the next time he'd come there, she'd ask shitload of questions. Somehow, he was fine with it.

"Caramel Latté for me, please," Steve smiled politely and she wrote it down.

_**'Black coffee, no milk no sugar. Thank you.'** _

"Okay, coming right up," she gave them big smile and then turned on her heels, leaving them alone.

When she was gone Bucky rested his head on Steve's shoulder, sighing contently.

 _ **'Feels good, rich boy.'**_ he wrote jokingly and Steve laughed. Bucky could feel the vibrations going through his body and it made him smile. He hid his face in Steve's neck, hoping Steve wouldn't notice his stupid smile.

"I'm starting to think you really like to entertain the idea of me being a rich boy," Steve kissed Bucky's hair, pressing him closer to his side with his hand.

 _ **'So what if I do? Gonna do something about it?'**_ Bucky was provoking now, turning his face slightly to press a kiss under Steve's ear, daring him.

Steve drew in a breath, looking around if someone was looking at them, then brushing away Bucky's hair and placing his lips against the shell of his ear, his heart going a mile a minute.

"I'd take you to my place," he purred. "I'd push you against the door first,” a hot breath, “I'd mark you as mine, bite you hard,” he pressed his teeth into the soft flesh of Bucky's earlobe. The boy was already shivering next to him. “And then I'd fuck you good and proper against the wall with your clothes still on," his voice dropped low, it was dripping like honey. "I'd debauch you. And when I'm done with you, I'd give you two minutes to recover before I'd make you ride my cock. Till all hours of the night," Steve whispered, his lips brushing against Bucky's ear with every word, sending shivers down his spine.

Steve squeezed Bucky's thigh when he pulled away, just as the waitress came back with their order. Just in time to stop Steve internally freaking out about his sudden slutiness. He blamed it all on Bucky and his huge steel blue eyes and the delicious perfume he had. It was feeding Steve's darker side, giving his dirty thoughts a free pass.

"Here you go," she was all smiles and politeness and for a while it helped Bucky to will away his growing erection.

"Thank you, Stacy," Steve smiled, sipping from his cup.

Bucky reached for his coffee too, but stopped when he noticed his hand was shaking. He frowned and reached out with his bionic arm instead. It never failed him.

"Sorry if I made you uneasy," Steve apologized quietly. He was suddenly well aware of how inappropriate his behaviour was. So much for Nat's pep talk that he's gonna do fine.

 _ **'You didn't.'**_ Bucky gave him a small smile. _**'I asked for it.'**_ he added.

"That doesn't justify my actions," Steve said. He felt horrible for saying all the things. _What if he said something that hurt Bucky?_

 _ **'Look, you didnt make me feel uneasy. You just gave me a hard-on.'**_ Bucky typed and it made Steve blush.

"Oh God," he hid his face in his hands. His virgin self surfacing slowly.

Bucky chuckled next to him, obviously happy with how the tables had turned. He took Steve's hands in his and pulled them away from his face. Steve felt the metal fingers on his skin and it left a pleasant, tingling sensation on his fingers. He looked into Bucky's eyes. They were soft in the dusky light the café provided.

Bucky put his flesh hand on Steve's neck, caressing his skin briefly before leaning in for a kiss. Steve was ovewhelmed. His senses centered on Bucky, on his hot lips and how they tasted all bitter from the black coffee. He licked his lower lip, but before he could deepen the kiss, Bucky pulled away with a devilish smile.

 _ **'Take it easy, rich boy.'**_ he smirked and Steve hardly resisted the blush creeping up his cheeks.

They sat in silence for couple more minutes, sipping their coffee and occasionally brushing their hands. Steve felt comfortable in their silence and he remembered the line from Pulp Fiction.

„ _That's when you know you've found somebody special. When you can just shut the fuck up for a minute and comfortably enjoy the silence.“_

Steve smiled to himself. He looked at Bucky who was currently occupied by the book case next to him. Like a child in candy store. He even picked one book and was now flipping thourgh it. He seemed genuinely interested by it. Steve scooped closer to Bucky and looked at the text. _Cyrillic_ , he sighed internally and looked at the pictures instead. He guessed it was some sort of creepy book for children.

"What does it say?" Steve asked quietly.

 _ **'It's a fairytale called The Armless Maiden. My mom used to read this to me when I was a kid.'**_ Bucky looked like he's lost in thoughts.

"Wasn't it kinda drastic for a kid?" Steve asked skeptically. Bucky surprised him when he laughed silently.

_**'I suppose it was a bit too violent, but it never bothered me. When I was seven I lost my arm because I was a stupid reckless kid. And since then I somehow hoped that it'd magically grow back due to a good deed... but it never happened.'** _

Steve was left speecheles. He had no idea Bucky lost his arm this young.

"How-How did it happen?" he stuttered.

 _ **'My grandpa was getting ready to go to the woods with his only horse to chop down some trees and make wood for upcoming winter. I begged him to take me with him. He didn't want to take me, at first, but I convinced him. So me and my dog-like cat Myshonok followed my grandpa to the woods.'**_ Bucky stopped for a while, gulping down some of his coffee before carrying on. Steve was hanging on every word Bucky typed with wide eyes, not daring to think about what would he read next.

_**'My grandpa told me to watch out for the falling trees. I helped him, handed him different axes and such. And then Myshonok hid under the blueberry bushes. I went to get him, but there was this thing on the ground. Shiny and half-hidden in the soil. And that's when the tree fell on me.'** _

"Jesus Christ!" Steve yelped, looking at Bucky with disbelief.

 _ **'I didn't feel a thing, but I started screaming as soon as I realized I couldn't feel my arm at all. I have never seen so much fear in anyone's face before. My grandpa looked like he saw a ghost. He was more scared than I was. He managed to roll the tree trunk aside and took me back home as quickly as he could. My mother fainted at the sight. And I fainted soon after, due to the massive blood loss.'**_ Bucky stopped again and rested his back against the soft padding of the sofa.

"My God, Bucky... I- this is awful. I'm so sorry," Steve's insides were twisting with the dreadful thought.

 _ **'Don't be sorry, Stevie. I'm fine now. They cut off what was left of my arm. The doctors told me later that I almost didn't make it. But you know Russians - we're tough,'**_ Bucky chuckled and shook his head at his own thoughts. _**'Anyway, when my dad heard what happened, he left his work and came to see me. Him and his collegues made me my first artifical arm. I couldn't move it, but it gave me the sense of... you know, made me feel a bit better and the kids weren't staring at me anymore, just pitying me. But now I'm fine, Stevie, you don't need to worry.'**_ he smiled at him and stroked Steve's cheek gently. Steve leaned into the touch, looking fondly at Bucky.

"How long did it take to... to develop the mechanical arm? I mean, if it's okay to ask," Steve asked. Curiosity was biting pretty deep into his flesh.

 _ **'This thing?'**_ Bucky pushed up the jacket sleve up to his elbow and wiggled the metal fingers. _**'My dad made me his little lab rat. Tested all sorts of stuff on me. Took two years to develop my first mechanical arm, but it wasn't nearly as good as this one.'**_ Bucky saw the interest in Steve's eyes and chuckled. _ **'You can touch it, you know. It won't hurt you.'**_

"Really? I mean... may I?" he reached out his hand, but stopped mid air, waiting for approval. Bucky nodded his head and Steve took Bucky's metal arm into his. It was a bit cold, but smooth. Steve took in all the details he could.

"It's so beautiful, Bucky," Steve breathed out, brushing his fingers over Bucky's. "Can you feel it when I touch you?" he asked and Bucky nodded again, smiling. He turned his hand, entwining his metal fingers with Steve's.

Steve looked up, his mouth slightly open. Bucky motioned to Steve to come closer with his other hand, luring him in. They slothed their mouths together in a sinful, open-mouthed kiss, devouring and conquering. Bucky moaned softly, his hand shooting up to grab Steve's hair to pull them. It stang and Steve loved every second of it. He bit Bucky's bottom lip hungrily in return, soothing it with his tongue afterwards.

They were forced to pull apart due to the lack of oxygen in their system, both panting with their eyes half-lidded.

"God, Bucky," Steve breathed out, his cheeks flushed with arousal and heat. He rested his forehead against Bucky's. He closed his eyes, relieved and happy and high on endorphines. They exchanged couple of sweet and innocent kisses before they decided it's probably time to leave. Steve paid for their coffees and took Bucky's hand in his when they were leaving.

Stacy watched them with longing eyes, wishing she could trade places with the charming brunete.

"It's pretty late," Steve stated, biting his lip. "Do you want me to drive you back to your place?"

 _ **'Please. You'd be very kind.'**_ Bucky smiled sweetly at Steve.

"Okay, come on," Steve led Bucky to his parked car and opened the passenger's door for him like the gentleman he was tonight. When he saw himself in the car's window, he had to stiffle a laugh. He totally forgot that he looked like a spoiled rich boy. He had to admit that Bucky was entitled to tease him over it.

When Steve pulled over, he turned on the iPod Natasha had connected to the main panel. It was silent for a while until Bon Jovi's You Give Love a Bad Name blasted from the speakers. Steve nearly jumped through the roof and banged his head in the process. He cursed loudly which made Bucky laugh.

Steve turned down the volume and made a mental note to bring his own iPod the next time. He knew exactly that Nat had it planned. Luckily for him, Bucky seemed to really enjoy Bon Jovi as he was humming softly next to Steve.

After Bon Jovi there was a track that Steve didn't recognize and wanted to skip it so he reached his hand out just to have Bucky bat him away. Steve shrugged and concentrated on driving instead. Little did he know what was the song about. Hthe song was just getting started and Steve was already blushing like a bride.

_Hold me up against the wall_   
_Give it till I beg, give me some more_   
_Make me bleed, I like it raw – like it raw, raw, raw_

Steve bit his lip, trying to ignore the music hard, but failed anyway. He hoped the song would be over soon. It gave him so many inapropriate thoughts. The last thing he needed was to crush the car in the nearest building. Steve thanked God the streets were empty at the late night hour.

_Hold my hands above my head_   
_And push my face into the bed_   
_Cause I'm a screamer baby, make me a mute_   
_You put your hand upon my neck and feel the pulse beat, beat, beat, beat_   
_It's like a trigger, get me ready to shoot_

Steve had to remind himself to breath steadily. He remembered what he said to Bucky earlier. The thoughts of holding him up against the wall, giving it to him rough and fast, making him beg for it, then diving deep into his body, debauching him sweetly. Over and over. Press his hand against his neck to feel his pulse thrum under his fingertips.

_Wanna wrestle with me baby_   
_Here's a sneak, little peek_   
_You can dominate the game cause I'm tough_   
_I don't play around that often_   
_When I do, I'm a freak_   
_So you'd better believe I like it rough_

Steve wondered why Bucky stopped him when he wanted to skip the song. He blamed it on the catchy tune. He didn't want to think about all the possibilities there were... Bucky liking the song. Trying to make it a statement of things he actually liked. He didn't dare to look at him. He didn't want to see the expression Bucky wore. He was too scared he'd lose control.

Steve forced himself to focus on the road and gripped the steering wheel tighter, to the point where his knuckles were going white. As soon as he parked the car in front of Bucky's apartment building, he turned of the radio, which elected a good laugh from Bucky while.

 _ **'I really liked that song, you know.'**_ he teased, already opening his door to get out. Steve followed him. The cool air outside helped him to clear his head a bit.

 _ **'Wanna go upstairs?'**_ Bucky asked, awaiting. Steve felt his breath get stuck in his throat.

"I... are you sure? I mean, it's pretty late and all," Steve said, shuffling his feet, suddenly self-conscious and nervous.

Bucky seemed to think things over in his head before typing again.

 _ **'I guess I'll see you around then?'**_ he gave Steve a weak smile and it broke Steve's heart.

„Wait!“ Steve shrieked and quickly put his hand over his mouth, blushing. „On the other hand...” he started, looking hopefully at Bucky who laughed and shook his head.

 _ **'You don't have to, you know?'**_ Bucky smiled and stepped closer to Steve, invading his personal space. ** _'We don't need to rush things. It's okay like this.'_** he waited until Steve read the whole sentence and then leaned in to give him a chaste kiss.

"Thank you," Steve whispered, feeling embarassed about his own eagerness.

 _ **'It's cool, Stevie. Thank you for the nice evening.'**_ he typed and when Steve looked at his face again, he had that beautiful, kind smile Steve loved the most.

„Yeah, it was nice,“ Steve agreed with a stupid smile. He was drunk on love.

 _ **'Come here, rich boy.'**_ Bucky beckoned with his finger, fisting his hand in Steve's blazer to draw him closer.

Bucky gave him a sloppy kiss, drawing out little moans from Steve, battling for dominance with his tongue. His metal arm slid down Steve's back to grope his ass, making Steve jump at the sensation. Bucky left him panting with shiny, swollen lips and half-lidded eyes.

"Are you sure you don't want me to come up?" Steve slurred, still trying to catch his breath. Bucky shook his head. A smug smile was playing on his lips. He mouthed 'Good night' before disappearing in the building.

Steve stood there for a whole minute before he could move his feet again. He was baffled and amazed at the same time. On his way back he listened to the Flesh by Simon Curtis and let his fantasy flow to the dirtiest corners there were. He felt guilty for the sinful thoughts, sure, but at the same time he felt the endless longing deep in his chest. Aching for Bucky.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just love men in suits or blazers, okay? Can't help it :D


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, here we go!  
> First of all, I wanna thank all of you who stayed with me for this long, patient and everything. I love you guys so much!  
> I know I promised a new chapter sooner, but school's been really rough and it ain't gonna get better any time soon. I'll try my best to make things work, but who knows... exams are comming up.  
> Anyway, enjoy this chapter :3

It was late into the Saturday morning when Steve finally woke up to the sound of rain. He sighed happily and stretched in his bed, making his spine pop in delicious relief. He buried himself deeper in the blankets to hide his stupid smile in case someone was watching.

He felt warmth seeping slowly into his bones from that infuriating smile on his face. All he could think of was the softness of Bucky's lips. His hair. The faint smell of his shampoo. He let the images from the last night flow recklessly in his mind. All the touching and kissing made his cheeks burn in a perfectly lustful way.

The first thing Steve heard when he finally tumbled out of his bedroom was a synchronized „Oh my god, he's got it bad,“ from Nat and Clint who were having breakfast in the kitchen.

„Oh come on, shut up!“ Steve blushed and hurried to get into bathroom. He heard both Nat and Clint burst out laughing. He knew he had it bad for Bucky. He just didn't know it was so damn obvious.

Five minutes later he sat down next to his friends at the small kitchen table, cup of green tea in his hand. He gave Nat a thankful smile and poured milk over his cereals.

„Dude, mind to put on a t-shirt or something?“ Clint complained, obviously hurt from the display of muscles and tight skin.

Steve chuckled and flashed an amused grin at Nat. She was hiding hers from Clint carefuly. Her and Steve had their own habit of walking around the aparmtment in their underwear most mornings. Steve could easily admire her soft curves in pretty lacy lingerie. And she didn't hesite to sneak a glance at his rippling muscles either. There was nothing more to it than admiration.

„Not in the mood for oggling?“ Steve joked, but went to fetch himself a t-shirt and sweats anyway. He kind of understood that Clint wanted to have a peaceful breakfast.

„So how was your date?“ Natasha asked and Steve felt her vibrating with curiosity from across the room.

„It was pretty good,“ Steve said honestly, not even trying to hide his smile anymore. „But I kind of wanted to smother you for the songs you put on your iPod,“ he said.

„What?“ she said, looking surprised.

„That was my iPod,“ Clint said. „I guess I just forgot it in there,“ he didn't look sorry at all. If you asked Steve, he'd tell you that bastard looked pretty smug.

„Are you trying to tell me it was a complete coincidence that there were songs about love and hard fucking playing when I drove Bucky home?“ Steve put his hands on his hips, expecting an answer.

He didn't get any. Nat and Clint both bursted out laughing and couldn't stop. Steve rolled his eyes and went back to eating his breakfast. He was, however, smiling too.

**o_O_o_O_o_O_o**

Steve spent the weekend texting Bucky both through texts and the internet. They talked a lot about everything and nothing. Steve wanted to meet again, but Bucky insisted he had an important paper coming up and he really needed to study and get his ass in gear. Steve understood that and left him alone for the rest of Sunday.

They didn't talk much during the week. With both of them being bussy with school and work it was hard to find some private time. When Nat asked him if he was going to the kickbox training, Steve told her no. He didn't feel like it, even if it meant not seeing Bucky.

„So why is it you're not comming? Are you two fighting or something?“ Nat asked while packing her gym bag.

„No, we're cool,“ Steve said. „I just don't feel like working out that much. It was fun, sure, and I'd get to see Bucky again, but... I don't know,“ he slumped down on her bed.

„What is it?“ she looked worried, brushing Steve's blond hair from his face.

„He brings out things in me I had no idea... it scares me, you know?“ he sighed. „But it's the good kind of fear, not the bad kind,“ he said in a quiet voice. „And I thought I'd rather see him somewhere private, rather than the gym,“ Steve admitted.

„Oh, honey,“ she smilled and gave him a hug. „It's normal to feel like this. So long as you feel good and comfortable, it should be okay,“ she assured him and squeezed his shoulder.

„Thank you, Nat,“ he said quietly.

„Stop with the moping,“ she cheered and took some books from one of the shelves she got near her desk. „Now if you stay here, you might as well do something useful, what do you say?“ she smiled sharply at him.

„Uh, sure, what do you have in mind?“ he asked and eyed the books rather suspiciously.

„Just get these books to a Children Orphanage my cousin is running. Sounds good?“ she smiled.

„Yeah whatever,“ Steve shrugged and took the books. He looked at the spines and frowned. „Hey Nat, are you sure the kids will be able to read Cyrillic?“ he asked a bit skeptically.

„It's an orphanage for kids from different family backgrounds and it sort of happened that quite a lot of these kids are from Russia and Ukraina,“ she explained. „So my cousin asked me for some books in Russian. Some of the kids can barely speak English and their Russian is maybe even worse,“ she said and Steve begun to understood. „Besides, he told me there's this guy who visits once or twice a week to read to the kids, so they get significantly better,“ she smiled and added one more book to the pile in Steve's hands.

„Okay, so how do I get there?“ Steve gave her a smile and she wrote him the adress.

„You can borrow my car, the orphanage is on the oposite side of the city,“ she handed him her car keys and Steve nodded.

He was quite curious how the orphanage looked like. He remembered Nat telling him about it couple of times before. She even tried to pursuade him into going there. Steve didn't know why it took him so long to finally go there, so he blamed it completely on school.

**o_O_o_O_o_O_o**

„Hello? I was sent here by Natasha Romanoff,“ Steve said to the intercom.

„Alright, come on in,“ a female voice buzzed him in and he entered the front gate. It was heavy, decorated with many details alongside the black bars.

The building itself looked far better than Steve had expected. It wasn't a shack, in fact, it looked rather new and very clean. The hallways were colorful and happy, decorated with various paintings made by children and pictures of animals

Steve went straight to the reception desk to ask where he should go. The books in his arms were getting significantly heavy.

„Hello, I'm here to drop some books sent by Natasha Romanoff,“ Steve started and looked at the pretty young man behind the reception desk. „Could you point me any direction, please?“ he smiled and watched the guy smirk.

„Go to the end of the corridor, it's the last door on your left,“ the guy said in a warm tone and gave Steve a once-over.

„Thanks,“ Steve blushed and hurried to get the damn books where they belonged. Something he knew how to do by memory. It was so typical that men and women would hit on him right when he was insterested in someone else. _Where the hell have they all been this whole time?_ he thought.

Steve walked to the end of the corridor and knocked on the door with a Headmaster sign on it. A strong voice let him in.

Ivan, Natasha's cousin, was a big man with a warm, welcoming smile. He greeted Steve with his arms wide open and pulled him in for a russian kiss. Steve was baffled for a second, before he remembered that this was something usual in Russia.

„You must be Steve Rogers, right?“ Ivan asked with a smile that let crow's feet around his eyes. There was still a light russian accent in his voice. He gestured towards two chairs under the window for Steve to sit down.

„Yes, Natasha sent me with these,“ he said and brought up the books in his amrs.

„Oh, thank you. The kids will be thrilled,“ he smiled and took the books from Steve. „Are you sure you don't want to stay for a while?“ Ivan asked. „We don't have many visitors around here. The kids would love you,“ he went on, obviously seeing the doubt in Steve's eyes.

„I'd love to, but Nat told me that a lot of kids struggle with English?“ he wasn't sure they would even understand his words.

„They're getting better every day,“ Ivan said proudly like any other father would. „They are bunch of very tallented kids, they help each other to learn their languages,“ he continued and it caught Steve's interest. „Kids who come from English speaking families had learned Russian pretty quickly and vice versa,“ he explained.

„That's good. Glad to hear the kids aren't strugling with the language barrier,“ Steve said honestly.

„So if you have time, you can join them, maybe read a book for them?“ Ivan tried again. He had those really dark, really big eyes and Steve already knew he'd succumb. „They will hang on every word, I swear. When it comes to telling stories and reading books, they are like a bunch of hungry wolves,“ he laughed.

And Steve thought why not.

Those kids were in an orphanage because they lost their parents. And for whatever reason they can't be raised by their relatives. He didn't want to ask, knowing fully well that each story would be equaly painful and sad. So he decided to cheer them up a bit. Give them a little something to make their day better.

He followed Ivan through the building to a large playroom, where all the children were running around. Playing various games and chirping excitedly, they all seemed genuinely happy.

The whole room went silent, however, when Steve walked in.

„I'd like to introduce you Steve Rogers, he came here today to read some stories for you, so be kind to him,“ Ivan frowned threatingly, but it just looked wrong on his face. The kids bursted out laughing. They knew very well that Ivan could never stay angry with them for too long. He was like an uncle for them.

The children started shrieking excitedly and as soon as Ivan went out the room with an amused grin on his face, the kids crowded Steve, pleading.

„So what would you like me to read?“ he asked, walking further to the room and to the book case full of children books.

«Кот в сопогах, пожалуйста,» one of the kids squeked and the girl who stood by his side laughed.

„He means Puss in Boots,“ the little girl corrected. She was almost porcelain-like looking girl in pink dress and almost white blonde hair. Steve patted her hair gently and smiled at the little boy who stood next to her. He knelt down so he was eye level with the boy.

„I'm afraid I can't read or speak Russian,“ he put on a sad face.

„The other guy could,“ the little girl pouted. All the other kids gathered around them, listening carefuly.

„You will have to wait for him,“ Steve said, trying not to upset the kids. „But what do you say to playing out the story so your friend can understand it?“ he suggested and the little girl's eyes lit up. She said excitedly something in Russian and the small boy smiled too.

„Can we do that?“ she asked.

„Sure. I'm gonna read and you're going to act,“ he smiled. „Like real actors,“ he had no idea how it would turn out, but it looked as a plan. And the kids looked equally excited, so Steve thought it might be a good idea, after all.

„Cool!“ she jumped up and down in excitement. After she stopped jumping excitedly, she put on a more serious face, although she was still smiling. „I'm Lili and this is Misha,“ she finally introduced herself.

„Nice to meet you, I'm Steve,“ he smiled at the kids and turned to pick the book about Puss in Boots.

He gave the kids their roles and helped them to set the scene. They were all vibrating with excitement and glee and Steve thought that he always wanted to feel like this. Wanted to make the kids happy when their own parents couldn't.

Their dramatic reading didn't quite turn out as planned, but judging by all the laughing and squeaking, they had fun nontheless. Steve's cheeks were aching from all the smiling and laughing. It felt like the best workout in his life. When the kids had to leave for dinner, they made him promise he would come again. And who was he to deny them this? He was already looking forward to it himself.

„You really need to meet this other guy, who comes here,“ Lily told him. She was lingering long after all the kids had gone to wash their hands before dinner.

„Is that so?“ Steve knelt down to her.

„You'd like him. He used to be a very sad person, but we cheered him up,“ she pouted and then went on. „But I think he needs someone like you to make him really happy,“ she said.

Steve was touched by the pure lack of selfishnes in her thoughts. She was in an orphanage and all she thought about was happiness of someone else.

„I'd love to meet him. But I already have a boyfriend... kind of,“ he looked apologetically at her.

„Doesn't matter. You could still be friends,“ she winked at Steve and then run off, leaving Steve completely baffled.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> «Кот в сопогах, пожалуйста.» "Puss in Boots, please."
> 
> Hope you liked this chapter. Keep rockin' guys :)  
> You can also find me here: http://u-have-failed-this-kitty.tumblr.com/


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello my friends, I'm back! :3
> 
> First of all, I'd like to thank you for all your amazing comments, it kept me going for all this time. You guys are amazing and I'm endlessly grateful for your patience with me.  
> Secondly, I haven't written for so long because of mid-terms, I'm sure you know what it's like. And I lacked insiration and the words didn't flow right. I want to assure you I'm not gonna abandon this story, I already have ending for it and all, so I'm determined to finnish it! ;)  
> Anyway, I hope you're gonna like this chapter. I'm sorry for all the mistakes in advance, I'll try to edit it with time :)
> 
> Love you all!

It was a week already from their last date. And Steve was growing restless. He tried to busy himself with almost any time-consuming activity he could think of. School, work, drawing, gym – you name it. But sooner or later Bucky always popped up in his mind.

“Why don't you just call him, huh?” Natasha finally asked. Steve knew he was most likely annoying for the last couple of days. It made her uneasy, feeling all of Steve's nervous energy. He felt her tip toeing around him, all tense and irritated.

“I don't know,” Steve scratched the back of his head. “What am I going to say?” he looked up at her, expecting.

“Maybe tell him how much you miss him?” she arched her eyebrow.

“He's gonna think I'm clingy,” Steve frowned. He was going over all the possibilities in his head. All the possible questions and answers. It just seemed like there weren't any good options left for him. He had so little experience in this field that almost anything seemed inapropriet or wrong. And if Steve was scared of anything, it was screwing things up with Bucky.

“Or he's gonna say he misses you too,” she reasoned. “Then you'll go on a date, everyone's happy. Problem solved,” she finnished in a snappy tone.

Steve noticed earlier that day that Natasha wasn't in her best mood. She seemed bothered, but Steve knew better than to throw nosy questions at her. Whatever it was, he decided it would be for the best If he just waited for her to come to him. He knew she'd need some time to work it out all by herself. And he was willing to respect her decisions, as far as she would be okay on her own.

“Alright,” he replied after a while, dismissing their conversation. Maybe she was right, after all. He really should've called Bucky sooner. _Yeah, call him. Sure._ He wanted to facepalm himself.

Steve went to his room, his phone already in his hand. He had no idea how to start a casual conversation, how to ask for another date without sounding pushy or greedy.

_**'Hi, what's up :)'**_ _no, that is lame_ , Steve decided and deleted it as soon as he skimmed over it. He sat still on his bed for another twenty minutes, staring dumbly at the screen. He was _so bad_ at this.

Instead of the sappy _I miss you_ he decided to go with something Bucky would probably write himself.

_**'Have time Friday night? :)'**_ he stared at the screen for another five minutes, before he finally hit the send button. A wave of adrenalin washed over him. His palms were all clammy and sweaty, too. He was anxious all of sudden. His stomach turning in anticipation. The fear of rejection pierced right through him like a poison laced arrow.

Steve was so occupied with overthinking, that he totally missed there was already a new message on his phone. When he did notice, his heart rate sped up again. All nervous, he tapped the little icon.

_**'My schedule is going crazy. But what about Saturday? ;)'**_ Steve smiled at the reply, feeling his heart calming down. So Bucky wanted to see him, after all.

He wasn't so sure why he was panicking. Even after their _oh-so-great_ date in the gallery. Things were going great for both of them. Steve could almost taste it. The chemistry between them, sparkling and crackling like electricity. Every fiber of his body was screaming for Bucky, his intuition was telling him he was the one. So why did he have such a hard time believing his heart? That little thumping _traitor_ that always dove head-first into action, not thinking about consequences. His brain, supposedly the smart one, was telling him to slow down. Maybe Bucky wasn't the one. Maybe things won't work out.

But Steve, ever the trusting, romantic one, refused to obey his brain. Yet again. He let himself fall for Bucky, piece by piece. For his laugh, his icy blue eyes. He traded his witts for sweet kisses and a dakr veil of mystery. He'd trade anything. Anything for the bad boy that his mother told him to stay away from.

After some more time of debating things with himself, he settled on an easy answer. _**'Saturday's good. Got any plans?'**_  

They kept texting each other until late afteroon, when they both had stuff to do. Bucky insisted they meet on Saturday morning. He wanted to see the sun coming up. When Steve read that text, he quietly wondered how could he ever lived without him. He was more excited about their date than he was the last time. They kept telling each other little facts through their text. You could call it a game, perhaps. And the longer they played, the more intrigued Steve was.

It was Wednesday afternoon. The day was dragging. Steve could hardly imagine all the impatient waiting until Saturday. He needed to get his shit together. _Starting now_ , he told himself and packed his stuff for work. He didn't expect many students in the library. Well, maybe some, but nothing like the rush hours during mid-terms. And rush hours during mid-terms? All the damn students would come there. It gave Steve a headache just thinking about it.

Steve walked to the library and caught Sam at the front desk finnishing up his shift.

“Hey man, what's up?” he greeted Steve with a big smile.

“I'm good, what about you?” Steve gave him a bear hug. They hadn't seen each other for a while now.

“So how's Barnes, huh?” Sam asked teasingly. He had that devilish kind of look. Natasha would be definitely proud of him.

“Uh, good?” Steve said, squirming. “I mean... it's not...” he started stammering, which only made Sam laugh some more.

“Okay, okay,” he grinned and patted Steve's shoulder. “I get it, you're not official yet,” Steve wanted to protest, but Sam didn't let him. “But don't worry man, ain't nobody gonna hear a thing from me,” he had that big smile of his and it made Steve feel better about the whole situation. He felt his own mouth twitching up.

“Thanks man,” Steve clasped his hand around Sam's bicep. “We should catch up sometime,” he added, smiling.

“Oh, we definitely should,” Sam cheered and swung a black backpack on his shoulders. They exchanged couple more senteces, before Sam had to leave. A lecture about military strategies or something.

Steve learned that Stark was throwing a party. And seriously, when was he going to get tired of it? For a brief moment Steve considered going, since he had a Friday off. Maybe if he convinced Natasha. She had that thing for Stark's parties and vodka shots. Steve had a feeling that maybe it would cheer her up a bit, give her some freedom from whatever problems she was having.

“Steve, could you please check out the Paleontology section?” his supervisor was towering over him. She was a very beuatiful woman. Steve always thought so. She had the most beautiful chocolate-brown hair, nicely curled and pinned back with black bobby pins. A dark shade of red lipstick on her perfectly shaped lips - her signature. She always had this intimidating thing going on, but it never bothered Steve. He liked strong and confident women. And during the time Steve was working under her supervision he learned Peggy was actualy a kind, nice person. She just needed to maintain a certain point of authority among employees.

“Sure thing. Anything special I need to do there?” he asked, although he knew damn well why was he being sent there.

“Some kids made a mess there, you know the routine,” she sighed and gave him a small smile. “Just pick up the books, look for any damage,” she looked in his eyes and Steve found himself lost in their darkness for a split of second.

“On my way,” Steve nodded and stood up from his chair. They would always ask him to go to that section to clean up. It started out as some kind of a joke. Everyone knew Steve was a loser when it came to relationships. So they would tease him by making him clean up after other couples, from time to time. And as time went on, it became his regular job. He had memorized almost every damn book among the Paleontology section. What was his life again?

As he was reaching the stairs, he heard Peggy say “Thank you,” in that nice, caring voice of hers.

He smiled to himself and shook his head slightly. He liked Peggy. Of all the supervisors around the library, she was by far the best Steve could ever wish for. She was strict, no doubt, but also kind and understanding. She had this sense of what's right and what's wrong and she was determined to stand her ground. This was, in Steve's opinion, her best feature. He adored her for that. It was pretty much all Steve knew about her. They never talked much, save for the routine and stuff concerning the library. She was rather reserved, Steve thought, but respected her nevertheless.

He ran up the stairs and went through a maze of bookshelves before reaching the Paleontology section. The one that was pretty much his nightmare during his Friday night shifts. You see, nobody ever asked for books from this section, so many students used that corner for make out sessions and sometimes even worse. So he braced himself mentally for the catastrophy there.

To his relief there was only a couple of scattered books on the floor. One of the tall book shelves, however, looked like it would colaps on itself in any moment. It would need a proper fixing as soon as possible. The poor thing was all crooked, the angles were all wrong, too. Steve touched it lightly only to hear the wooden construction creak loudly. Steve stepped away, afraid it might fall apart. With a sigh, he picked up the rest of the books and started placing them where they belonged.

He was almost done, consumed in the activity. He was humming a melody in his head he couldn't get out. Relaxed and confident in his own little bubble, someone's hand wrapped around his shoulder. Steve yelped and jumped nearly ten feet up in the air.

“Jesus, warn a guy next time, would ya?” he clutched his heart, breathing heavily. He hated when people did this to him. Especially when he was all consumed in work and didn't hear a sound around him.

It was only then, when he registered the familiar mess of brown hair and icy blue eyes.

“Bucky?” Steve breathed out, still surprised.

_**'Sorry, I didn't mean to scare you,'** _ he wrote, looking genuinely guilty for scaring Steve so much.

“It's fine, don't worry,” Steve chuckled, searching Bucky's face for any answers.

_What are you doing here? Why are we standing so close?_ Steve's mind was suddenly clouded with tons of questions. Bucky's left hand was wrapped around Steve's right wrist. The cool metal was bringing Steve was to reality, where he was getting drunk on their proximity.

The warmth that was building between their bodies was pleasant for Steve. Soothing his nerves. Bucky was standing withing arms reach, it would take only a step for Steve to cup his face and kiss him. He missed Bucky so badly. His eyes were sliding down to his lips, so sinful, so pretty. And then back to his eyes. Blue and icy like winter morning. Steve swallowed, hard, noticing his breath becoming short, elaborated. He felt Bucky's thumb tracing slowly over his pulsepoint. The want was building deep within him. He knew he wouldn't be able to hold back for long.

But he didn't need to. It was Bucky, who made the first move.

He stepped closer to Steve, invading his personal space. He pushed him against the closest bookshelf, pressing him firmly with his own body. He slid his thigh between Steve's legs, making the blond moan quietly. They were both breathing heavily, the air around them thick and heavy. Bucky reached his flesh hand to cradle Steve's face, never quite looking away from his eyes. He licked his lips, slowly and deliberately, making sure Steve is watching.

Steve went pliant within seconds. All it took was Bucky's assuring presence, the firm press of his body and Steve would submerge. Feeling Bucky's strong body pressed flush against his, contrasting sharply with his soft hand caressing his cheek. He felt his knees getting weak, his breath coming out short. The remaining books in his hand were long forgotten, lying helplessly on the ground. Steve lost the track of time, lost in the moment and drowning in the heat.

He didn't realize his lips were parted, until Bucky brushed his thumb over his lower lip. Bucky's mouth was curled in a dangerous smirk. It sent shivers down Steve's spine. The danger went perfectly with the sharp glisten of the metal studs in Bucky's leather jacket. Steve's hands automatically found their way under it, squeezing Bucky's hips and then travelling up higher over his stomach and pecs. He saw Bucky's eyes flutter momentarily before he reached out with his left hand, placing it over Steve's pec, then sliding slowly down. He leaned in close, his nose brushed against Steve's cheek.

The blond was whining pathetically now, squirming under Bucky's touch. He needed more. “Bucky,” he whispered softly, trying to reach up with his lips, but Bucky had a strong grip on his jaw. Wouldn't allow him to move.

He saw that perfect, almost feral gaze in Bucky's eyes right before their lips met. It was hungry, verging on the edge of desperate. Their lips crashed together in a heated kiss, moving together in a perfect sync. Steve was making all these embarassing noises that were effectively muffled by Bucky's lips. Steve loved that tingling sensation when Bucky fisted his hand in his hair and pulled. That burning pleasure, the addictive sting of Bucky's teeth biting his bottom lip.

Bucky tugged on Steve's short hair at the back of his head, forcing him to expose his neck. Steve was running hot. He needed to get his clothes off, get Bucky's clothes off. He was desperate with want. To get his hands everywhere he could, feel that hot skin under his fingertips and put his mouth on every inch of Bucky's skin.

He let Bucky mark him up on his neck, whining and groaning with every bite and nip. He was sure there would be a bruise later, but he couldn't bring himself to care. He slipped his hands under Bucky's shirt, his nails scraping his skin, squeezing his hips tightly. It elicited beautiful sounds from Bucky. And Steve wanted to hear more of them, make Bucky crazy with want and heat.

"God, Bucky. Please,” he didn't know what he was asking for. It was all too much and not enough at the same time. He heard Bucky purr in delight, just under his ear where he was placing open mouthed kisses on his skin. He suddenly let go and looked straight to Steve's eyes. His pupils blown wide. So, so black. It only sent all the blood in Steve's body rushing south.

Bucky licked his lips, all puffy and red from the kissing. He gave Steve a satisfied once-over and with a smirk drew back from him. Steve grunted, unhappy from the sudden loss of contact. A wave of cold air hit him just as he realized he was pitching a tent in his dark blue jeans.

“So...” Steve started, but Bucky didn't let him finnish. He put a finger to Steve's lips, silencing him. Bucky then fished out his tablet to type something in. Steve was curious since this whole thing took him aback pleasantly. It took Bucky some time to write everything he wanted. When he finished, he pushed the tablet in Steve's hand and before he could even begin to read, he pressed him against the bookshelf again, latching on the other side of his neck.

Steve downright moaned at the sensation of Bucky's hot lips on his skin. He was lost at the feeling before he realized he was supposed to read whatever it was Bucky wrote down.

_**'God, Stevie. If you could only see yourself. You're a mess.'** _ Steve's eyes fluttered closed at the combination of words and Bucky's skillful mouth. He was pushing his t-shirt aside, biting down where his neck met his shoulder.

Steve's other hand found its way to Bucky's ass, squeezing him through the black denim. He enjoyed the way Bucky was breathing heavily against his neck, moaning soflty every now and then.

_**'Look at you, neck all marked up by me. Everyone will know who you belong to, who did this to you.'** _ Steve whined, couldn't help It anymore.

“Shit, Bucky... I'm all yours,” he keened, feeling the brunette smirk against his skin.

_**'So perfect, all pliant and greedy under my hands. Wanna ruin you for everybody else. Want you to remember me. Leave my handprints all over you...'** _ Steve gasped, short of breath. He closed his eyes, trying to get his body under control again.

He threaded his fingers through Bucky's hair, gripping them tight to pull him away from his neck. He looked at his eyes and took in the sight. Hair all tousled, lips red and shiny. Steve softened his grip only to get a better hold of Bucky's jaw. He leaned in and joined their lips together, not getting enough of Bucky's sweet taste.

“Gentlemen,” a strong voice echoed behind them. Steve jerked away from Bucky. Not realizing his pozition, he banged his head right against the hardwood, knocking off some books. They added nicely to the mess already on the floor. There was a familiar taste of copper in his mouth, too. A quick glance to Bucky proved him right. He had to bit his lip too hard by accident. There was blood smeared all over his bottom lip.

“I'd honestly never peg you for the one making the mess here,” Peggy went on, her voice strong, but amused. She had that sparkle in her eyes, like she was enjoying herself and the show in front of her.

“I'm so sorry, I can explain this!” Steve said quickly, picking up the scattered books from the floor. Bucky looked a bit ashamed, his cheeks tinted with a hint of pink. He crouched down on the floor and helped Steve to clean up the mess they made. They could hear Peggy laughing quietly over them.

“Just clean this up and go down to the reception, okay? No more fooling around,” she pointed at the two of them. “Save it for later,” she gave them a knowing smile and walked away. Her steps muffled my the thick carpet.

Steve was so embarassed he could hardly look Bucky in the eye. They cleaned up after themselves in silence, exchanging small, almost fleeting touches every now and then.

“Uhh, thank you for stopping by,” Steve smiled coyly at Bucky when they were done. He didn't really know what to say. He had to look like a little kid, his cheeks still flushed and hair all tousled from Bucky's grip.

_**'I'm sorry if I put you in trouble,'** _ Bucky typed, biting his swollen lip.

“Don't worry, it was actually fun,” Steve laughed quietly. He stepped closer, pecking Bucky on his cheek. “I really missed you,” he admitted, speaking quietly so only Bucky would hear him.

_**'Good. Missed you too.'** _ Bucky smiled and gently put his hand on Steve's cheek, kissing him slowly, languidly. Their tongues were moving against each other in a sweet kiss that left Steve breathless.

“So, do you need my help or did you just go here to surprise me?” Steve asked when they finally parted. He was content just to stand there, holding him in his arms.

_**'Maybe both? That beautiful lady who just walked in on us told me I'd find you here.'** _ Bucky smirked. There were those mischievous sparkled in his eyes again. And Steve was proud of the fact that he was the one to put them there.

“Is that so?” Steve laughed a bit, leaning in to capture Bucky's lips.

_**'Soo, are you in for helping me with researching some boring books?'** _ Bucky gave him a hopeful smile and who was Steve to say no? He'd say yes to anything Bucky would ask him for.

“It's my job,” Steve said, already leading Bucky downstairs. “So what is it you're looking for?”

Steve sat behind the reception desk, opening the library database for searching. There were no signs of Peggy. Just couple of students wandering around the place.

_**'I have an important paper coming up. It needs to be something concerning major historical events of WWII.'** _ Steve skimmed over the text and thought about it for a second.

“So which event?” Steve asked, leaning slightly against the counter.

_**'That's the thing. I can't figure it out.'** _ Bucky scratched his chin and for a brief moment Steve wondered what it would feel like to have stubble burn on his neck. That kind of stubble burn that would sting deliciously under the spray of hot water the next day. He shoot the thought off when he registered Bucky's searching gaze.

“I don't know much about history, per se,” Steve started, “But there's this one event that really kept me interested in the past,” and he remembered it all too well. It was back when computers were rare and internet was yet to be discovered. So he spent his days in library, trying to fish things out. “The moment when Russians used the Katyusha rocket launcher on Hitler's army for the first time. I think it would make quite a paper,” Steve looked up to Bucky, only to see the corners of his mouth twitch up slightly. “I bet you know the story better than I do. But the psychological effect of Katyushas? The damage it caused? I think that would be worth some deeper digging,” he smiled at Bucky, who was already typing.

_**'What would I ever do without you? This topic hasn't even crossed my mind. I'm so ashamed.'** _ Bucky pushed the tablet to Steve with a happy grin on his face. Steve felt warm all over. It came to him as a second nature, be nice, caring and all the other things his mother taught him. But now, seeing Bucky and the happiness written all over his face, that was a new experience for him. And Steve realized this is what he wants to do for the rest of his life. Making Bucky happy. Despite whatever terrible history he might've had. All that mattered was now. Them.

“Oh please, you and ashamed?” Steve teased, grinning. Bucky made an offended face and stuck his tongue out at Steve, which only made the blond laugh.

“God, I'm so happy I have you,” he was still smiling widely, leaning over the counter. He stole a quick kiss from Bucky. It was all so addictive.

_**'Just wait for Saturday. I'm so gonna make up for all the time we haven't been together.'** _ Bucky winked at Steve.

Before Steve got to reply, Bucky typed some more.

_**'And there's also something that I feel I should talk to you about...'** _ Steve froze. His heart started beating fast in his chest.

All the scenarios were playing in his head. One over the other. All the disasterous things. Would Bucky want to end their relationship? Does he have someone else? Is he not interested? Despite the things they have just done in the upper floor of the library, Steve felt extremely self-conscious. He counted silently to three and then looked up to meet Bucky's eyes.

“Uh, what do you-what... what is it?” he choked out. Bucky had a worried expression now, biting his lip.

_**'It's nothing bad, I promise. Just some... let's say health issues? I think you should know. And this is not the place where I want to discuss it.'** _ he gave Steve an apologetic smile.

Steve felt appeaced, for now. It wasn't a direct threat for their relationship. Just some personal infomartion Bucky wanted to share. Steve remembered the conversation he had with Natasha couple weeks back. She assured him Bucky would open up in his own time. Steve was sure this was it. He had absolutely no idea what story was there behind Bucky's muteness. He couldn't imagine the horrors he had to go through to give up his voice entirely.

“Okay, that's fine,” Steve nodded. “Whatever it is, I'm with you,” Steve assured him. He wouldn't give up their relationship. Even fresh and new as it was, he was ready to fight for it. He was determined to work on what they had going on, feeling sure and confident in his steps. Steve had never fallen so hard for anybody in his life. And now, when he was completely lost in his feelings for Bucky, he was convinced it was good. That they would last together. And even if they weren't destined to last, Steve was ready to give it a shot and try his best to succeed. He thought that Bucky deserved at least that much.

 


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, I know it took me forever this time, too -_- I kind of underestimated the beginning of the new semester. This chapter might not be the best of them, but I promise more action in the following one, which is going to be a real challenge for me to write.   
> So stay strong, stay patient, I love you guys ;)

_Just be quiet. Don't rise any suspicion._ Steve was telling himself. He closed the door, careful not to make a sound.

“Stop it right there.”

“Damn it,” Steve cursed under his breath. Like why the hell did he think he wouldn’t get caught?

He turned away from the front door to face her. Putting on his best innocent smile, he hung his jacket by the full-length mirror and greeted her. “Hi Nat, how was your day?” he asked.

Now, Steve didn't expect to fool her, he wasn't stupid. He was just buying himself some time before the interrogation would begin. He needed to find ways of explaining his stealth. And then probably explain the red-turning-purple mess on his neck, too. She would want details, a lot of them.

“Don't play coy with me,” she snorted. There was a smile on her lips, row of white teeth showing in a dangerous manner. She was sitting comfortably on the couch, one leg folded under her, arm resting over the back of the couch. She had a perfect watching spot. Like a feline hiding, waiting for the right moment to pounce on the prey. Steve supposed she was reading one of those insanely complicated and theoretical books of hers when he interrupted her. The late afternoon sun was shining into their tiny living room and Steve could imagine the quiet, cozy atmosphere it would give if he could lay down on the fluffy carpet and just close his eyes for a moment. Breathe in, let everything sink in.

“Coy? What are you talking about?” Steve knew damn well. There was no chance he didn't, Natasha knew. She heard his suspicious attempt at being quiet, so naturally it made her curious. Steve guessed she had to spot the bruises on his neck as well. If her amused grin was anything to go by. He was well aware that they had to be fucking  _glowing_ . He made a mental note to give Bucky a proper payback later.

“I don't know,” she shrugged. “You tell me why are you sneaking, Rogers,” she had that knowing smirk of hers. It wasn't threatening or mad in any way. She looked mysterious in a way Mona Lisa would. With her smiling, knowing eyes that were hiding things man could never think of.

Steve walked over to the living room where the light was better. He guessed Natasha would like to get a propper look first, before talking. So reconciled with his faith, he let her. Watched her green eyes skim over his neck, lingering there for a second and then going lower, examining his clothes. She looked back up to his eyes and smirked. The satisfaction almost visible on her beautiful face.

“Happy?” Steve asked and threw his arms up for her. He turned around so she could look at him from all angles. He did it more for her amusement than anything else. He could be hardly annoyed by her searching gaze. Besides, he was kind of excited to tell her everything about what he just did in the library.  And how amazing it was. He just didn’t want to look too excited and childish. Last thing he wanted was making Natasha laugh and call him an excited golden retriever puppy.

“Not as happy as you over there,” she chuckled and patted the empty seat next to her. “Don't leave me in suspense here, what happened?” she was all eyes and ears by then and Steve just couldn't with her. He huffed in fake annoyance and flopped down next to her. She definitely seemed relaxed and happy. Steve could hardly see any traces of grumpiness around her eyes; they were soft. Even her voice was rather sweet

“You should know better, Nat,” Steve laughed under his breath. He was purposely avoiding the subject, just so he could look outside the far window and daydream for a bit. And also because he was a little jerk and loved to tease Natasha whenever he got the chance.

Steve closed his eyes for a moment and took a deep breath in. If he concentrated hard enough, he could still feel Bucky's lips ghosting over his abused skin. His palms were tingling with the softness of Bucky's hair, itching with want to pull them. The memory tasted almost as good as the experience prior to it. Wherever was his imagination taking him, to whatever pleasant places, he needed to snap out of it. Steve knew he had to. It wouldn’t be the first time he’d pop a boner in Nat’s presence. But now he definitely didn’t feel like it was necessary. Or appropriate for that matter.

And as if Natasha had been listening to his thoughts, she quickly brought him back to reality.

“A date?” she cocked her head to the side. She was guessing, not quite sure what happened between Steve and Bucky. And boy, was Steve enjoying her uncertainty.

“Uh, not really, no,” the blond beamed and turned to face her. He looked into Nat's green eyes and watched as she traced her gaze down to his neck.

“So you two finally did it?“ she raised both her eyebrows in surprise. She had that shocked look in her eyes, which made Steve laugh.

“God no,” he breathed out, laughing. “Not yet,” he gave her a wink. She pressed her lips into a thin line and threw a pillow at him.

“You are a tease, Rogers,” she barked, but her voice was soft with glee. She wasn't mad at all. If you asked Steve, she was enjoying the whole thing, too. They both loved their little chit chats and banters, it was always part of their friendship.

“You know you'd be the first person I'd call, right?” he asked, smiling.

She blinked a couple times, opening her mouth slightly before closing it again. She quickly shook her head. Even if it was a tiny movement, barely noticeable to a stranger, Steve knew it was there. He saw the mixed emotions with a hint of confusion in her delicate features.

“Of course I know,” she nodded. Next to her, Steve could feel the tiny nervous vibrations she was sending. As usually, she was giving the impression of absolute calmness. Something she’d been working on for years. But no matter how long she was practicing, Steve could always see right through her. He could swear her eyes were a bit too shiny at that moment. So he did the first thing that made sense to him and pulled her in for a hug. Wrapped his arms around her small frame and allowed himself to relax, feeling as Natasha went pliant against him.

For as long as they knew each other, Steve knew that Natasha wasn't always easy to deal with. He learned that step by step as they grew up together. She had her own ways when it came down to dealing with feelings. And every now and then Steve would tell her how much he loved her or what she meant to him. Those were usually the moments she would get somewhat giddy and uncertain. People would think that a confident, strong woman like her wouldn’t have problems handling her feelings, but the truth was somewhere else.

Steve has always known he would never get the response one would expect from her, but he was more than okay with it. She would tell him in her own way how much she cared for him. Sometimes she’d do his laundry without a word when he was sick. Or tell him to be safe, even if he was going to the library. It was always the little things between them. The knowing looks and small smiles.

He didn't blame her for being taken aback by what he just said. Sometimes Natasha needed a reminder that Steve cared for her, too.

After a while he let go of her and made himself comfortable on the couch. He laid down and rested his head in Nat's lap.

“Bucky came to the library to surprise me,” he said simply, looking at her from under his lashes.

“Oh?” she made a surprised face. The one that made her look so young.

“Yeah,” he smirked while looking at the ceiling. Natasha was playing with his hair now, her other hand resting lightly on his chest. “He didn't say much before he pressed me up against a bookshelf and we started making out,” he was beaming by now, recalling the sweet memory in his head.

“Rogers, you sly dog,” Natasha laughed. “You seriously made out with him in library?” she didn't want to believe him.

“Like you never did,” Steve scoffed.

“Well, we both know my record quite differs from yours,” she cooed at him.

“Whatever,” he waved his hand in the air and returned back to his story. “It was all like a dream,” Steve sighed. “His hands were everywhere and all that. God and his mouth! And then my supervisor walked in on us,” he was turned red just from thinking about it.

“No shit,” she was giggling and Steve had to throw a pillow at her.

“What? It's not like you don't know what it's like!” Steve tried to sound mad, but he just wasn't. He knew it had to sound a bit strange to Nat. It was his first time he experienced such an adventure.

“I'm proud of you,” she patted his hair. “So tell me what happened next?”

“Not much, actually,” Steve rubbed his eyes. “We have a date on Saturday and he wants to talk to me about something,” he hated the idea of a serious talk. The more he was thinking about it, the more scared he grew.

“Did he hint what kind of talk it’d be?” she asked in a gentle tone. Steve guessed she had to feel him tense up under her fingers.

“Yeah, something medical? My guess is it'll contain his past,” he sighed and looked up at her. “I don't know if I'm ready for that.”

Steve remembered what he partially went through with Tony. He saw the kid suffer in one of the worst pains imaginable for a child. It broke Tony in many ways, Steve knew. There was this ongoing drinking problem; he was shutting people off. But the important part was that Tony was still there, kicking and all. The thing, Steve thought, was – what horrible thing could've happened to Bucky that it left him mute for the better part of his life?

“You are in this with him now, Steve,” Natasha brushed off his hair. “He wouldn't want to tell you if he wasn't serious with you,” she said. “Don't be scared. Be strong,” she placed her hand gently over his beating heart. “For both of you,” her last words came out barely audible.

They went silent and Steve let his breath slow down. The tension bleeding away, being replaced by much more comforting feeling of safety. It felt so good to be under Natasha's hands. He almost fell asleep when her voice brought him back from the sleepy land.

“By the way,” she started gently and Steve opened his eyes to look at her. “The next time Barnes decides to pay you a visit like this?”

“Oh no, no, no!” Steve sat upright, horror in his eyes. He knew where this was going. Natasha would say something absolutely mortifying, just for the kicks of it. She loved making Steve blush.

“Just ask him nicely If he could mark you up somewhere, how to put it, less visible?” she made that thoughtful face, obviously picturing the whole thing. Steve blushed, the blood was rushing to his cheeks. He hit Natasha with a pillow before they both started laughing.

“You are enjoying this, aren’t you?” he laughed, the discomfort fading, but some of it still lingered.

“Wait till others see your little neck artwork,” she shoot back with a chuckle. “You won’t live it down.”

Steve stopped abruptly, his hand absently rubbing at the bruises on his skin. He knew she was right and felt slightly humiliated. For most of his life Steve was an angel. Pretty much anyone that knew him would say so, even if it was a kinky angel-costume-fantasy of Stark’s. Up until this moment Steve had never done anything like this, never had the desire to do so anyway. But now he realized that people might view him differently. Might make fun of him and embarrass either him or Bucky. He didn’t care about people calling him names, slut-shaming him for who he is. But he did care for Bucky, more than anything else. He couldn’t let anyone get to him.

Years ago, Steve would probably be a bit scared in his heart, but ready to fight nevertheless. Now? He wasn’t scared of bullies. He was more than ready to throw some serious arguments at them. And maybe some punches, too. He knew he could defend himself, now more than ever. But beside that he also knew how much words could hurt. How they could cut deep and how it’d sting and bruise afterwards. He didn’t doubt Bucky’s ability to fight. Hell, he came a long way to be here. He’d seen him during the kick box trainings as well. Now, the reason Steve was afraid, was that he didn’t want for Bucky to carry around more burdens.

Realizing people could’ve seen them and the fact that he has a shining evidence of their little randezvous right up on his neck, made him panic.

“Would you help me?” Steve blurted out. His eyes huge and scared, like a deer caught in headlights.

“With…?” she raised her eyebrow.

“Mask this up with some make-up?” he pointed to his neck. “Please, I know you’re great with make-up,” he pleaded, making the effort to put on his best desperate face. Natasha shook her head and laughed softly.

“I don’t have the proper stuff to fix your little problem here, but Clint does,” she gave him a wink.

The hair at the back of Steve’s skull rose up. She couldn’t be serious!

“Clint?” Steve’s eyebrows were threatening to disappear in his hair line by now. How would Barton have any idea about make-up? Was he secretly a drag queen or something?

“Oh, I didn’t mention it?” she frowned a bit when the shocked expression wasn’t leaving Steve’s face. “He took a professional make-up artist course,” she said. “And he’s damn good at it, too,” she promised and fished out her phone.

“This is so not good,” Steve whined. He was hiding his face in his arms, mortified of the fact that Clint Barton, of all people, would give him a lesson on how to cover up hickeys and bite marks. He felt the tips of his ears burning with shame. But it was too late.

Natasha was speaking into her phone now, talking in that sacharine tone of hers. By what Steve caught, Clint would be there in twenty.

“Don’t worry, he won’t laugh at you,” she patted Steve’s hair gently. “Want some coffee or tea?” she cheered and sauntered over to the small kitchen that was joined to the living room by breakfast bar.

“Uh, sure, coffee is fine, thanks,” he smiled at her and flopped back into the soft cushions behind him. He was listening to Nat shuffling around the kitchen, the sound of clacking cups and boiling water were somewhat comforting. He tried to calm down, concentrated on his breathing for a bit. It was one of the benefits of joining Nat on her yoga classes.

For a moment he allowed himself to dream. To picture what it would be like if it was Bucky there with him. A familiar wave of warmth washed over him. Yeah, he could get on board with that idea.

**o_O_o_O_o_O_o**

“Let me get this straight,” Clint was talking for like ten minutes now and it was getting on Steve’s nerves. He barely resisted the urge to roll his eyes at him. “You are now what? A chew toy?” he asked, both eyebrows risen. “Are you planning on making it a habit? Cause if so, I need to lecture you and give you the right product in your skin tone and all!” he said excitedly and rummaged through a large silver box that was containing more make-up than Steve had ever seen anyone own in his life.

“Can we not make it a big deal, please?” Steve asked, trying to sound hopeful.

“Yeah, totally,” Clint looked up at him and smiled. “I’ll teach you the basics anyway,” he concluded and put out a palette of weird colors.

“Now, the trick is to neutralize the colors simply by using the color wheel,” Clint begun and took a small brush from his set.

“Color wheel as in the regular one that is used for painting?” that was something Steve understood perfectly. Meanwhile, Natasha was occupied by Clint’s nice collection of tools and eye shadows, so she was silent. Steve wouldn’t even know she was there if it wasn’t for the little “ah’s” and “ooh’s” she was making over the kit.

“Yeah, exactly. We use green to neutralize red and pink to reduce dark circles and so on,” he scooped a bit of a creamy concealer on the brush and leaned over to Steve, tipping his chin ever so lightly so he could get a better access. “Or you can basically just use skin colored concealer with high pigmentation to cover it up,” he added.

“And you are using what exactly?” Steve was curious now. It was the fact that Clint’s approach to cosmetics was far more artistic that Steve would’ve expected. And he’d also need to learn the routine to help his own case in the future.

“You have mostly red patches on your skin. There will be pretty colorful bruises tomorrow, no doubt,” he laughed a bit. The applying stung, as Clint was dabbing the creamy substance in his skin. It was pretty abused, even more than Steve previously thought.

“Personal knowledge?” Steve couldn’t resist the little friendly poke.

“You bet, pal,” he laughed. “Anyway, you can use various concealers to cover the different shades,” Clint said. “But to save you some time, I’m gonna give you a tattoo concealer,” he fished out a small tube with a nice black design. “If it doesn’t cover the bruise, just let it dry and then apply again. Create some layers,” he instructed and came back to work.

“Okay, that sounds easy enough.”

“It’s not a rocket science, right?” Clint gave him a friendly punch. “Maybe you’ll want to fix the concealer, though,” he said. “So it won’t get all over your clothes, you know?”

“How do I do that?” make-up wasn’t an easy thing. Steve made a mental note to appreciate people with good make-up skills better.

“Just use some powder. In case of emergency a hairspray will do as well,” he was using his fingers now and Steve had to curl his right hand in a fist so he wouldn’t hiss. It wasn’t a major pain, but it wasn’t exactly pleasant either.

“How much longer?” Natasha asked from over where she was still rummaging through Clint’s stuff.

“Five minutes, tops,” Clint said. “It’s not that hard to cover. Nobody will be able to tell the difference,” he winked at Steve.

“Good, I can’t afford that,” he said and with a sigh he let his body relax. After all it wasn’t that bad.

In the back of Steve’s head there was still the tiny annoying voice that was telling him he’d been worrying about the whole thing too much. And while he knew it was true, he couldn’t help it at the same time. Worrying came to him like a second nature.

“Here, have a look,” Clint pushed a pocket mirror into Steve’s hand. He had a victorious smile playing on his lips. When Steve looked at his neck in the mirror, he understood why. There were absolutely no traces of the mess Bucky left there.

“Whoa, you’re really great with that!” Steve appreciated and gave Clint an honest smile. “Thank you,” he added quickly, feeling dumb for doubting Clint’s abilities.

“You’re welcome. Anytime you need my help, just call,” Clint patted his shoulder.

“What about me?” Natasha called from over the make-up box. Her voice was high-pitched and hurt. She knew how to play Clint’s feelings. Steve had to hide his smile behind a yawn, so he wouldn’t earn a smack for spoiling her fun later.

“Want me to do your make-up?” Clint teased. “You know I can’t say no to you,” his eyes softened a bit, which made Natasha smile.

“So what about we bail out and you show me what you’ve got?” she licked her bottom lip and Steve groaned.

“I swear, you two!” he stood up from the couch. “Get a room, I’m out,” he grabbed his stuff and went to his room, followed by loud laughter.

He was smiling too, though, happy to have friends like these two. When Steve was in the safety of his own room, he pulled out his phone and took a quick pic of his neck, making sure his jawline was also visible. He decided to tease Bucky and be a little shit to him.

**_‘Took forever to cover up. Get ready for payback ;)’_ ** he hit send and waited for Bucky’s reply. Nervousness mixed with the sweet feeling of butterflies in his stomach, but Steve didn’t get the time to get consumed in his feelings this time. Bucky was faster.

**_‘God, Steve. Don’t send me pics like that. Makes me wanna do things to your neck :P’_ **

Steve bit his lower lip to stifle the moan that was threatening to escape his lips. Yes, he definitely wanted Bucky to do things to him. He wouldn’t mind being at his mercy, whatever it would be Bucky had in store for him. It was all new and appealing. And Steve knew he was so, so  _screwed._


End file.
